Love and Loyalty
by Athena's Avatar
Summary: Jareth learns that Sarah can give him gifts more precious than her fear and obedience. J/S
1. Chapter 1: If You Should Fall

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: If You Should Fall

Sarah stared resignedly at her gaunt reflection in the vanity mirror. Her gaze skimmed the packed boxes by the door of her tiny, bachelor apartment. She dropped her eyes to the letter she would post to her ex-stepmother shortly and stretched out a thin, shaking hand to smooth the stamp that was lifting from the envelope's corner. Hastily blinking away tears, she refocused her gaze on her own reflection and took a deep, steadying breath. With obvious effort she settled her features into a placid expression, stiffened her spine and assumed a pose of calm confidence before speaking in a resonant voice that echoed her theatrical training.

"I wish Jareth, the Goblin King, would speak with me, right now."

Nothing happened. She stared intently at the small room reflected in the mirror behind her but no movement stirred, no thunder crackled, no whispers played along the edge of hearing. She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing her posture slightly. "Ah well. It was worth a try."

"Was is really?" came the unexpected, clipped reply. "And what exactly are you trying for, Sarah Williams?" Her eyes flew open to see the imposing Goblin King looming behind her, his face as angry as his tone. She swallowed nervously, her poise momentarily forgotten in the face of the man who dominated the cramped space.

"You came!"

"Yes, I came. You didn't give me much choice, did you. I swear I'll boil that dwarf in the bog for telling you my name."

Concern crumpled her brow and she studied the scarred surface of the vanity. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything. I just... I didn't know how else to contact you."

"No, of course not," he drawled. "I have nothing better to do than answer the petty whims of every little girl that calls my name." He glared impatiently at her bowed head. "What is it you want, Sarah."

She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment. She hadn't expected this to be easy, but it was still the right thing to do. Taking a deep breath she regained her composure and stood to face her old nemesis. She saw his eyes narrow in surprise as her took in her thin frame and pale complexion, her green eyes burning over-bright. She was still beautiful, but it was wrong somehow, a taut beauty that sat ill on her mortal frame. The slightest scent of acrid sweetness fuelled his unease. Before he had a chance to think through the implications of her appearance, she spoke, and what she said was no less surprising, despite its obviously rehearsed quality.

"I wanted to apologize, and to thank you for what you did and... for what you offered me. I've thought a lot about what you said, back then. You did do everything I'd asked. You gave me a chance to be the heroine, and you... well, you probably do have better things to do than 'answer the petty whims' of a little girl, but you answered mine. I was a brat, I know that now, and I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you. But you taught me a lot, like how to recognize a real friend and not to take things for granted." She hesitated, struggling with some inner pain. "I just wanted to thank you for that. And...and I wanted to ask one last favour." An expectant smirk graced the Goblin King's face and he crossed his arms derisively, waiting for the request he had no intention of granting. In the face of his haughty silence, she dropped her eyes to the floor, but she voiced her request nonetheless.

"I have to go away, somewhere where I won't be able to call on Hoggle and Ludo and Didymus and the rest. Could you tell them, please, your majesty, that I will miss them and that I will think of them for as long as I live." She couldn't help the tear that trickled down her cheek, and inwardly she cursed her weakness as she dashed the betraying moisture away.

Jareth frowned at the obviously distraught mortal standing before him. He had been prepared for some extravagant request, and even been looking forward to her disappointed expression when he refused her. Or perhaps, if her request had intrigued him, he would have bargained with her, trapping her with his twisted logic in payment for the havoc she had wreaked in his realm and his heart that last time he had seen her. But he did not know what to make of this strange request and her even stranger behaviour. What had happened to the fiery tempered maiden who had bested him in his own game?

"Why don't you tell them yourself. I am no errand boy, Sarah." He saw her wince at the harshness in his tone, but her gaze remained fixed on the floor and her voice was pained and small.

"I can't. I haven't spoken with them in... a long time, and I don't think I could say the words if I had to see them. I know--" she took a deep breath and regained some composure, fixing her eyes on a space behind him, "I know you hate me, and you have every right to, but they tell me you're a good king, so please," and suddenly her eyes locked with his, their fierce intensity nearly stealing his breath again as they had done so long ago, "please, could you tell them, so they don't wonder, so they don't think it's their fault?" He could not break free of that bright, green gaze and so he lost himself in it, searching for some clue to her thoughts.

"Please? I swear I will never trouble you again." Her words were laden with meaning that he could not decipher but something niggled in the back of his mind. He knew he was missing something, and despite himself, he was intrigued by the puzzle she presented. He had dreamed of her begging for his favour, of cruelly denying her, but now he found he could not. He let out a small snort. "Very well, Sarah. Your wish is my command, after all," he added mockingly. Her eyes closed briefly in relief, and her whispered "thank you" was full of unadulterated gratitude. When she opened them, he was gone.

Seeing the room empty, she folded to the floor, curling around her aching chest. All her strength had gone into that last performance, and she could no longer stop the tears streaming down her cheeks or the broken sobs that ripped from her throat. Gradually both slowed as she rocked herself to relative calm. Despondently she pulled herself off the floor and made her way to the bathroom to wash the tears from her face. Having already packed her towels, she wiped her face dry on her shirt and made one final sweep of the apartment. Assured that she had done everything she could, she picked up the letter and shrugged on her coat. With a last look at the sparse apartment she had called home for just under a year, she locked the door. After a moment's pause, she slid the key under the door, whispering an apology to her landlord. He wasn't a pleasant man, but she felt a pang that she would cause anyone trouble.

It didn't take long for her to get to her destination, even taking a detour to the post box where she sent the letter to Karen with all the best wishes she could muster. Now she stood in the middle of a high bridge, admiring the reflection of moonlight on the rushing river far below. It was a beautiful, early spring night, the air fresh with promise. Sarah could feel the tears starting again and knew she would have to act before she lost her nerve. As though in a dream, she carefully removed her coat, shivering slightly as she folded it and laid it gently on the cement sidewalk. Her limbs suddenly felt leaden and she had to struggle to pull herself up over the railing. "I'm so sorry," she said to no one in particular, and let go.

The instant she felt herself fall, panic kicked in. She knew it was just instinctive, but she couldn't help grasping desperately at the air, straining for anything to halt her fall. And when another hand seized hers, jolting her to a stop, she fainted.

--------------------------------

Apologies for the cliche; I fear there will be at least one more. I've tried to imbue these cliches with a bit of realism, though. Please let me know if I've succeeded, or if there's anything else that needs work. If you want me to get addicted to writing fan fic... review.


	2. Chapter 2: Into My Arms

Wow... reviews really are crack! Thanks for distracting me from my work. ;)

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2: Into My Arms

Sarah woke. That in itself was unexpected. Add to that the unfamiliar bed and the distinct smell of cool stone, and her disorientation was complete. Somehow she hadn't expected death to be so... itchy. And her wrist hurt, like it had been jarred. With a sudden gasp, she sat up, remembering the feeling of the gloved hand that had stopped her fall. The owner of that hand watched her pensively from a chair at the end of the bed, one boot-clad leg flung casually over the chair's side. He said nothing, just watching – like an owl would watch a mouse, she thought absently – while her brain caught up with her body.

"Why did you stop me?" She asked mournfully.

He snorted. "I didn't. You seemed quite determined to throw your life away. I simply claimed what you discarded."

He was pleased to see the spark of anger light in her eyes, and he smirked to see her so flustered.

"You can't do that. You can't claim someone else's life!"

"Can't I?"

"No!" She gave a wordless cry of anger and frustration, leaping off the bed to pace in the cramped space of the little stone room. It was as sparsely furnished as her apartment had been, with only a bed, a rough vanity, a chair and a wardrobe. The single window was tiny, well too small to allow her escape. "You! Why do you always have to complicate things? A simple request and then we never have to see each other again. Wasn't that enough? Why do you have to keep dragging me back here–" His cool voice interrupted her diatribe.

"As I recall, you claimed to benefit from your last visit. Or was that a lie?"

"What?! I-no, I mean – " She threw her back against the wall, letting her frustration flow out with a burst of exasperated breath. For a moment she simply closed her eyes and soaked in the cool calm of the stone behind her. When she opened them again, the wounded look had returned.

"Why, Jareth? Why couldn't you just let me die?"

"You forget yourself, Sarah, and you forget where you are. I am king here, and I am not obligated to explain myself to anyone, least of all a mortal who does not know the value of her own life." His cold anger sapped the last of her strength, and she slid down the wall to the floor, cradling her head in her hands. "Fine. Whatever. Your majesty." He tensed at her snide tone, struggling to contain his fury. Even now, broken and clearly without reserves, she managed to infuriate him. He wondered himself why he had saved this frustrating child (woman, his mind prompted). If anything, she would teach him patience, he supposed. He had heard it was a good quality for kings.

"Suffice it to say, Sarah, that since you have abandoned your life above, it pleases me to give you one here below. It needn't be a torture for you unless you insist on making it one. This will be your room until I am convinced you will not attempt any further foolishness. You will find clothes in wardrobe. I suggest you get changed and come out when you are clothed in something more appropriate."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I shall have to clothe you myself. And trust me, I shall not be gentle." He grinned ferally at her startled expression before vacating the tiny room.

Sarah glared at the door and briefly contemplated calling Jareth's bluff, but she didn't have the energy to fight. With a sigh, she opened the wardrobe. There were four dresses in rich jewel fabrics, but all of a fairly simple design, with laces, she noted absently, in the front or side, where she could reach them herself. She peeled out of her jeans and halter top and shimmied into the dark blue dress, thinking it best reflected her mood. She would, she decided, bide her time, and when Jareth wasn't looking, she could find an open window... if she still wanted to, if he proved unbearable, perhaps. Despite herself, Sarah felt the stirrings of curiosity undermine her prior conviction. Why had he saved her? Might living in the Underground be the answer to her problems?

Sarah emerged from the room to find Jareth giving orders to a trembling goblin. Seeing her, he impatiently waved the creature away on its errand and turned a frown to the gaunt figure in front of him. The dress which ought to have fit her hung loosely on her frame and revealed shadowed hollows around her collarbones. Her eyes were still fever bright, but her pale skin seemed dull beside the rich hue of the dress, and a thorough weariness outlined her entire demeanour. Jareth felt a stirring of anger. How had she come to this? Mortal lives were so short, so precious. What had happened to Sarah Williams that she would care so little for her own life, that she would go so far as to throw it away? He kept a close grip on his anger and motioned sharply for her to follow him, strangely more infuriated by her passive obedience as she fell into step behind him.

Sarah followed because she was too tired to do anything else. Idly she wondered if her presence in the Underground and Jareth's appearance had really happened. 'Maybe this is a hallucination,' she thought absently. 'Maybe I'm passed out in an ally somewhere. A warm alley. An alley outside a restaurant that's baking fresh bread. And stew.' The incongruity of the thought roused her from her dazed fixation on Jareth's back just as the Goblin King stopped and pulled open a heavy wooden door. Her eyes went wide as she was assailed simultaneously by the sound of hundreds of goblins and the scent of a rich array of foods. Her belly clenched and her mouth felt painfully dry.

"Well?" Jareth was frowning at her. She stared at him without comprehension.

"Have you been brain damaged woman? It's a dining hall. Go in. Eat something. You clearly need it." Sarah was stung by his sneering assessment.

"How do I know the food's safe."

Jareth actually rolled his eyes. Secretly he was pleased by her show of spine, even though he could hear the whine of her belly from where he stood. "Don't be absurd, Sarah. Do you really think I would save you just to poison you? Or that I would risk poisoning my subjects just to injure you? You think too much of yourself."

Sarah felt foolish. He still managed to make her feel like a spoiled child. Gathering the shreds of her dignity, she edged through the open door. Jareth ushered her to a groaning table covered with more food than Sarah had seen in months. Conscious of Jareth's eyes on her back, Sarah blinked away the tears that prickled her eyes and forced herself to take a wooden plate calmly from the stack at one end. When she reached out towards the stew that enticed her nostrils, however, Jareth stopped her.

"Not that." Sarah bit her tongue on an irritated response, figuring that glaring at him was safer than risking his anger with a flippant remark. He met her glare impassively for a long moment and then sighed, running a hand impatiently through his hair. "Sarah, a great number of children wished into my care suffer from neglect and malnutrition. I know better than you what you are capable of consuming at the moment." Sarah scowled at him, reading an unspoken accusation into his words, though he had not mentioned Toby directly.

"Fine," she ground out, tossing the plate down with a clatter. "You decide then," and with an effort of will she forced herself away from the table to sit defiantly at one of the trestles. The thought of all that food sitting mere feet away made her want to scream, but she clung to her dignity with the tenacity that had carried her through the past year. She stared stonily at the goblins rampaging around the room until a hand inserted itself into her vision, depositing first a very ordinary bowl of porridge followed by what looked to be a simple glass of juice. The normalcy of it melted her anger, leaving a familiar shame in its wake.

"Thank you."

"If you are still hungry when you've finished this, you may help yourself to whatever else you desire." She blinked rapidly at the oatmeal, glad when she felt his presence recede. Snide Jareth she could handle. Angry Jareth gave her strength. But kind Jareth, thoughtful Jareth, that would be her undoing. Exhaustion set in again, but she forced herself to take a spoonful of oatmeal, and then there was no stopping the tears that coursed silently down her cheeks, salting the simple repast. She was alive, when she had expected to die, and she could not tell if the tears were for sorrow or for joy.

At the other end of the hall, Jareth saw her begin to weep, cursed his own thoughtlessness. Whatever had brought her to this state, she was clearly in no condition to spar with him, and yet he could not keep himself from pushing her. He needed more information. As if in answer to the thought (though really in response to his earlier summons), Hoggle stumped into the room, his face set in a familiar, despicable mask of rebellious terror.

"Ah, Hogsbreath. You took your time." Jareth's sultry tone, pitched for the dwarf's ears alone, carried unspoken threat. Inwardly he took pleasure in the dwarf's twitchy fear.

"I came as fast as I could yer majesty."

"Yes, I suppose you did." Jareth gave Hoggle a sneering once over similar to (but less pleasant than) the one he'd recently given Sarah. "We have a new inhabitant."

Hoggle's eyes narrowed warily and then followed Jareth's expansive gesture to see Sarah staring morosely ate her porridge. She had stopped weeping, but still looked miserable.

"Sarah!" Jareth gripped Hoggle's ear tightly before the creature good make good on his lunge towards her.

"Tsk, tsk, Higgle. I would have thought you'd learned your lesson last time. Or do I need to remind you who is king here again?"

"You let her go. She don't belong here!"

"On the contrary, Hogworm, she does. Your precious Sarah threw herself off a bridge. That makes her mine if I want her, and I rather find," he leaned in close to smirk at the dwarf, "that I do. It _amuses_ me to keep her alive, just as it amuses me to keep you alive." He gave the dwarf a shake and let him go.

"Yer lyin. Yer a liar. Sarah wouldn't do that."

"No? And when was the last time you spoke to _dear_ Sarah, Hogsbrain, if you know her so well. Why did she call on _me_ before taking her fatal plunge, hmm?" Jareth revelled in the petty triumph of Hoggle's pained expression. He had never been able to forgive the dwarf for his betrayal and, he fully admitted, for worming so easily into Sarah's affections. The knight and big oaf of a monster had simply followed their natures, but neither had intentionally betrayed their king. Jareth had to admit that Hoggle had only followed his nature as well, but it rankled that Sarah had forgiven the dwarf his base behaviour while having no sympathy for Jareth himself.

"What I need, Hogwart, is information. I discharge Sarah into your keeping for the day; you will find her other _companions_ in the west garden but you are responsible for her continued safety and survival. Give her whatever she needs to recover, but most importantly find out why she has acted in this way."

I won't betray the little lady." Jareth seized Hoggle by the throat, hissing angrily.

"You will do as I tell you, or you will never see Sarah again. Do I make myself clear." The dwarf choked an affirmative. Jareth threw him to the ground in disgust and vanished with one last glare. Hoggle sighed and pulled himself up, wondering why he always had to push Jareth's buttons. He looked sadly over at Sarah. She'd tried to kill herself? Why? And why had she called on Jareth and not her friends? Hoggle's sense of hurt faded as he studied her, seeing, much as Jareth had, that she was clearly not well. He would try to find out what had happened, not for the Goblin King, but simply because he cared for her and had missed her more than he wished to admit in the long hiatus since she had last called him.

--------------------------------

Thank you for all faves and alerts, and especially for the reviews, whether to voice encouragement or comment on the challenge of retrieving good stories out of well worn cliches. Please keep letting me know what you think – the next two chapters are largely undrafted, and I need your reviews to keep me working conscientiously.

FairiesMidwife, I hadn't realized how short the chapter was till I published it. I have even more respect for my favourite writers, now that I see how long their chapters are. I think I'm going to stick to fairly short chapters for this story, though – baby steps till I get the hang of it!

AmericanWoman, the letter was simply Sarah's attempt to tie up loose ends in Aboveground, just as she tried to do through Jareth with the Underground. She's got a good heart, even if her thinking is a bit messed up right now.

Next chapter... another cliche! Yay!

p.s. Quiz time: In the last chapter, Jareth noticed a "scent of acrid sweetness." Any guesses what that was?


	3. Chapter 3: Tremble Like A Flower

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3: Tremble Like A Flower

"Sarah?"

Hoggle's familiar but anxious voice turned the lump of porridge that Sarah was already having trouble swallowing into concrete. As much as she hated to concede anything to the Goblin King, he had been right that her starved body could handle very little solid food at the moment. She forced the mouthful down before twisting to face the anxious dwarf. She could not bring herself to meet his eyes.

"Hello Hoggle. I..." What was she supposed to say? "I've missed you."

Hoggle shifted uncomfortably, his head teeming with questions but acutely aware that the dining hall was not the place to ask them. Sarah looked so fragile, and her reluctance to face him twisted his heart. He tried for a light tone.

"Ludo and Didymus are waitin' outside. Let's get outta this goblin racket and find em', alright?"

To his horror, Sarah shrunk further into herself at the mention of her waiting friends, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, but she murmured a pitiful affirmative and clung to his hand when he reached up to lead her through the warren of hallways. When he felt her hesitate on the threshold of the garden, he looked up to see her gaze locked on her old companions, her expression flooded with doubt and shame. Hoggle's heart wrung further; he remembered the feeling of that expression all too well from the time when he'd betrayed her with Jareth's poisoned peach.

"It's ok, Sarah. They miss you, too. We all do. They want to see you." It was apparently the right thing to say, because she made a visible effort to appear, if not happy, at least calm. Her composure lasted all of about thirty seconds. The moment Didymus and Ludo saw her, their excitement was modulated with distress over her obvious ill-health. All it took was a concerned, "Sawah sick?" from Ludo to dissolve her in tears. The large creature simply folded her in his arms, soothing her with a gentle rumble. Didymus twitched in agitation, looking to Hoggle for an explanation, but the dwarf only shook his head severely and watched Sarah cry herself out. A few minutes after the last hiccups had faded, he asked gently,

"Sarah, what happened? What's wrong?"

Her painful, humourless laugh issued from the depths of Ludo's fur before Sarah herself twisted in the large creature's grip to reveal her tear ravaged face.

"What's not wrong?" She winced at her own bitter tone and gave them a watery, apologetic attempt at a smile. "I don't suppose any of you has a handkerchief?" Didymus produced one wordlessly, taking the opportunity to settle at Sarah's feet, one paw resting reassuringly on her ankle. Sarah dealt with the damage of her weeping and then stretched out a hand to Hoggle, silently asking him to sit beside her. She had never expected to see her friends again, and now she could not fathom why she had thought they wouldn't understand. In the comfort of their love and loyalty, she felt despair ease its grip from her heart, felt herself finally able to face the moment that had brought her dreams crashing down, that had brought her eventually to a bridge on a beautiful spring night.

"My father died of a heart attack. A year ago today."

Ludo rumbled in sympathy, stroking her hair, while Hoggle and Didymus both exclaimed their distress. They all knew how close Sarah had become with her father, Robert, after her trip through the Labyrinth. To be sure, she'd become a better sister to Toby as well, but the real consequence of her hard won maturity had been that she'd finally seen how much her father had been hurt by her mother's departure and Sarah's own petulant rebellion. Having learned not to take things for granted, she made an effort to appreciate the parent she still had in her life, and she was delighted to discover how much they had in common. Robert Williams had turned out to be a warm, gentle man with a love for old musicals and a fondness for the flashy glam rockers of the early 70s. Sarah learned that Robert had fallen in love with her mother from the wings, when he'd worked as a stage hand in amateur theatre, and that the staid, pragmatic career he now followed had been a choice he'd made in order to support Linda in her art. He had taken a certain quite pride in the belief that he was helping bring beauty into the world, a belief that made Linda's defection even more painful. While her abandonment had hurt him, however, it hadn't tarnished his love for the artistic world, and he had silently cheered on Sarah's dramatic re-enactments, despite his new wife's exasperation. Once Sarah had recognized the kindred spirit in her father, she began inviting him to read scenes with her, and when she expressed an interest in acting and dancing lessons, he had been eager to support her. By the time Sarah was 18, rides to lessons after school had become trips to theatre auditions and dance competitions. When Sarah's stepmother Irene begrudged Robert's time away with his daughter, he gently reminded her that they would have the rest of their lives together, whereas Sarah, rapidly approaching her 19th birthday, would soon be ready to move out and move on with her life.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the rest of his life hadn't included her 19th birthday.

They had just come home from a dance competition the next state over. Sarah had made a stir with a composition in a new style that had the conservative judges frowning but had garnered the interest of conservatory representatives, including a recruiter from Juilliard. She'd babbled excitedly the whole way home, her joy reflected in his proud, indulgent smile. They'd been sitting in the living room, spinning plans about ways to cover the prohibitive tuition rates, when he'd suddenly sat back, frowning, and asked his daughter to fetch him a glass of water. By the time she'd returned, he was dead.

The days following were a blur. Paramedics were somehow called, somehow arrived, somehow entered the house and the living room, gently pulling Sarah away from her father, but Robert Williams had died quickly and there was nothing they could do. Irene, too, was in shock, and it was her family and Robert's colleagues who took charge, arranged the funeral, consoled Toby, and explained the details of the will. Robert had left the house to Irene, and a small trust fund for Sarah, but most of his assets had been, understandably, entailed for Toby's welfare. When Irene approached Sarah shortly after the funeral to explain that she couldn't afford to maintain the house, or really to live in it without Robert there, Sarah had only been able to nod her numb comprehension. Irene had generously helped Sarah find an affordable apartment and paid the first few months' rent, along with the deposit, out of the proceeds of the sale of the house. Lost in her own pain and her need to focus on Toby, she couldn't help her step-daughter cope. Sarah suddenly found herself alone and cast adrift from her old life, the sparkling dreams of the month previous now impossible fantasies. She clung to the security of the trust fund, enough money for six or eight months, and for a time simply drifted in pain and despondency. Gradually she realized that she had to start looking for work, start functioning again, only to discover that America in 1990 had hit a recession. No one wanted to hire a girl whose only training was in acting and dancing. At least, no one wanted to hire her for work she was willing to do, as she discovered when applying for waitress positions at some of the seedier bars. Despair fuelled the depression left in the wake of her father's death and she eventually began rationing her food and started dumpster-diving in an effort to eke out her meagre funds and keep a roof over her head. Starvation and a growing exhaustion had made it even less likely that she would find a job, even if she'd wanted the degrading ones she'd originally shunned, and as the anniversary of her father's death loomed, she'd made what had seemed like the only dignified choice.

Sarah was trembling violently by the time she finished speaking, tears spilling down her cheeks. Ludo held her gently, hearing in his slow, thoughtful way, her need more for comfort than conversation. Didymus, always less astute, unfortunately felt the need to reassure her verbally.

"My Lady, there's no shame in have asked his majesty for assistance. You have done him a great honour seeking his aid, fair maiden."

Sarah froze, her pale skin going ashen, her eyes dilated in shock. Hoggle saw the moment comprehension dawned, when she realized that Didymus didn't already know what she had done, that he had misunderstood what she had implied. Inwardly Hoggle cursed the fox knight's misguided chivalry as he watched Sarah withdraw further into herself. Didymus saw it, too.

"My Lady, have I said aught to offend you? My Lady?" The knight's distress combined with Sarah's withdrawal began to affect Ludo. The big creature started to whimper, a low, disturbing sound that shook nearby rocks and pebbles. Glancing up, Hoggle glimpsed an annoyed owl clacking its beak angrily at him. He had to intercede before things got out of control. More out of control, anyway. Hoggle took Sarah's hand gently.

"Sarah didn' exactly ask Jareth to bring her here."

Didymus was clearly confused.

"But then how...?"

"I jumped. Off a bridge. He caught me." Her voice was chillingly empty.

"You attempted to end your life, fair maiden? But why?"

"I... I couldn't face living like that. I didn't know what else to do."

"My Lady...why did you not call on us?"

Sarah met his pained, one-eyed stare for a long moment, before dropping her gaze to the ground in shame. "I don't know, Didymus. When my father...everything happened so fast. It just felt... And later...I guess I thought there wasn't anything you could do to help. I wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry."

"No, my Lady, it is I who is at fault! I should have guessed you were in distress when we did not hear from you. We should have sought you out ourselves!"

The knight's exuberance coaxed a wan smile from her lips. "I know you can't – couldn't – come unless I called you, Didymus. But I missed you all so badly. Can you forgive me?"

"My Lady needs no pardon from me!" Didymus exclaimed. Hoggle grunted, "Of course we forgive you, Sarah. That's what friends do, right?" Ludo nodded vigorously, his shaggy jaw bonking Sarah lightly on the head, drawing a further, stronger smile from her, though still only a pale memory of the joy Hoggle had seen on her face in the past. Like Didymus, he blamed himself for not guessing that something had been wrong. Jareth might hate him, but he would have checked on Sarah if Hoggle had asked it of him, if only to mock the dwarf's concern. Hoggle sighed.

"What matters is that yer here now, yer safe with us, and we ain't gonna let nothing bad happen to you. So, Sarah, what do you want to do now?"

Sarah looked a little stunned as she suddenly realized that she once again had a future about which she could make choices. Her head spun as her perspective shifted, and she put a hand weakly on Ludo's arm to steady herself against the ensuing mental turmoil. Finally she shook her head slightly and met Hoggle's patient gaze.

"I don't know. I'm so tired. I think... I think I'd like to sleep a bit. But will you stay, please, all of you? Please? I feel better with you here."

"Sawah sleep," Ludo rumbled confidently. Didymus swelled with regained pride, knowing that Sarah still needed him, and even Hoggle felt a flush of pleasure at being asked to stay. "Of course, Sarah. We'll always be here for you."

And so Sarah curled up against Ludo, and her friends stood guard while she slept.

--------------------------------

And the prize goes to Ophelia-Rose, who knew that the sweet scent was ketosis, a side-effect of starvation, but there were some excellent guesses and suggestions, many of them meriting their own stories (Sarah as meth addict – you rock bruwench!). Jareth has agreed to grant Ophelia-Rose a small wish, such as receiving a present for Christmas. Let me know if carries through; I can always replace his glitter stick with an UHU.

Thank you for the reviews. Always a pleasure to receive them. Do let me know what lines work for you, or if any of them don't ring true. I'm still feeling out voices.


	4. Chapter 4: Promises to Keep

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: Promises to Keep

Hoggle hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until a well-placed kick to the ribs informed him of the fact. If he'd had a chance to get his bearings, he would have noticed that his pained yelp did nothing to disturb the deep slumber of the fox knight and his monstrous brother, but his attention was entirely fixated on the seething Goblin King standing over him, riding crop at the ready.

"Did I, or did I not assign you responsibility for Sarah's safe-keeping?"

"Y-yes yer majesty."

"Then where is she?"

Hoggle glanced quickly around, his heart sinking when he saw that Sarah was no longer curled up against Ludo, nor anywhere to be seen.

"The little lady must have just slipped off. Er, I'll just be off to find her."

"You do that, you repulsive little scab, and stay on task this time or the bog will be the least of your worries."

"Yes, of course, yer majesty." Hoggle was already moving quickly up the garden path, the only direction Sarah could have gone. He gulped hard when Jareth was suddenly in front of him again, frowning severely. Hoggle felt his skin twitch with each tap of the riding crop against Jareth's boot.

"When you find Sarah, you can tell her that she'll be starting in the kitchens tomorrow."

Indignation flooded through Hoggle, overwhelming his better judgement.

"You can't do that! She's too weak!"

Jareth sneered at the dwarf. "Only here a few hours, and already she fosters rebellion. Keep this up, Hogbreath, and I'll have her mucking the stables; you can be certain that I will let her know who earned her the position." Hoggle trembled with anger, but kept his mouth shut. Jareth snorted his derision. "You stupid cretin. Do you really think she would be better served left alone to mope? I am doing her a favour. Don't you agree, Hedgewort?" His tone was silky and dangerous; Hoggle could tell that Jareth was looking for an excuse to use the riding crop on him, to vent his simmering rage.

"Yes, yer majesty," Hoggle ground out. "Very generous." Jareth's eyes narrowed, but he could discern no insincerity on the dwarf's tone. He gestured Hoggle impatiently on his way, aiming a half-hearted kick to his rear as he passed.

Hoggle stumped along quickly, fuming over Jareth's cruelty. He hated to admit the rat's point about keeping Sarah occupied. Doing so meant acknowledging that Jareth was actually concerned over Sarah's welfare. Which meant that his anger shared something with Hoggle's own frustration. Because the dwarf found he, too, wanted to hit something, blame someone, anyone, but there was no one to blame for the series of events that had brought Sarah to such distress.

As Hoggle had expected, finding Sarah wasn't difficult – the garden was enclosed and the entrances were disguised to prevent unwanted visitors – but his heart still wrenched painfully when he found her. She was standing on a little, ornamental bridge, staring mournfully at the tiny stream running under it.

"Sarah?"

She looked over at him, sighed, and resumed her study of the water. He moved to stand beside her, waiting for her to break the silence.

"You know, I hadn't said it out loud. A whole year, and I never said the words. I never told anyone that he died."

"It don't sound like there was anyone to tell."

"No, I suppose not. But I think, maybe, it felt like as long as I didn't say it, it might not be true. That he might still come through the door and say it had all been a mistake." A sob tore from her throat. "Oh Hoggle, what am I going to do?"

"Yer gonna get on with your life, Sarah. Don'tcha think it's time you moved on? Isn't that what yer father woulda wanted?

"Doing what? I'm useless. I couldn't get a job above. What am I supposed to do here? Beg for scraps at his majesty's table? I'd still rather die.

Hoggle rolled his eyes. "You'll work, jus' like everyone else in this kingdom!" He paused, getting a grip on his exasperation. "Jareth wants you in the kitchens tomorrow. It's where most newcomers start, unless they gots special training in something the Labyrinth needs. Narga always needs help, and the goblins ain't great kitchen staff. She's a bit of an ogre, but she's got a good heart. She'll take care of you."

"Oh." Hoggle snuck a glance sideways, pleased to see a spark of curiosity elbow it's way through her morose thoughts.

"You wanna tell me why you really didn't call us?" He chuckled at her surprised double-take. "I been lyin since before you were born, girl. Yer a good actress, but it'll take more than that to fool old Hoggle." He waited expectantly.

"I guess I was too embarrassed... ashamed. I thought you would be disappointed in me."

"Why's that?"

She huffed her frustration; Hoggle's heart skipped to see a glimmer of her old drama in the action.

"I was the heroine. I solved the Labyrinth. Last time I talked to you guys everything was perfect. I was getting parts, placing in competitions. I couldn't face telling you that I'd lost it all. The heroine who solved the Labyrinth, can't even get a job flipping burgers. Can't even pay her rent." She paused, her face sour as she contemplated her own reasoning. "I'm despicable."

"Cause you gots pride? You taught me that weren't such a bad thing. Or cause you got caught in a situation that smells like fairy droppings? Seems like that weren't of yer own makin." The look of confused exasperation she gave him made Hoggle want to laugh, but he kept a straight face, forcing her to answer the question.

"I'm a coward, Hoggle! You heard Didymus. He's so disappointed in me. You must be too. And I know Jareth despises me."

Hoggle snorted. "Didymus doesn't understand anything that he can't fight or pay court to, an nothin but nothin 'll ever make 'im think less of you. You can't honestly think I'm gonna think yer a coward, not after all the things you've seen me do. And Jareth, well, who know what goes on in that feather brain of his. Do you really care what he thinks?"

"No." Hoggle sensed another lie in her timid negation, but chose not to pursue it.

"Hoggle?"

"Mmm?"

"Is it true, what Jareth said? That he could claim my life because I discarded it? Does he really have that right?"

Hoggle frowned. "It's a bit more complicated than that." He picked his nose thoughtfully, ignoring Sarah's exclamation of disgust. "The Labyrinth is more than just a place to get lost in; it's a place for lost things. Unwanted kids, sure, but other things too. And as king of the Labyrinth, Jareth has power over those things if he wants it."

"Lost things?" Hoggle tapped his fingers on the bridge rail, his sombre demeanour focused on the stream.

"Have you ever noticed that I'm the only dwarf you met in the Labyrinth? Have you ever heard me mention others of my kind? I'm the only one you're likely ta meet in the Labyrinth, an there's reasons fer that. Have you ever seen _anything_ like Ludo before? Even Didymus is lost, in his own way, always chasing his dreams. And Jareth don't look much like a goblin, do he? Some of us are lost on purpose; some by accident. Some," he added with regret, "were basically told to get lost."

"I'm sorry." Hoggle glanced up to see the warm compassion he so loved in Sarah.

"S'alright. I deserved it. I weren't a very nice person 'till I met you.. Sides, the Labyrinth's my home now, and I got Ludo and Didymus and you. That's why you gotta take care of yourself, Sarah. I don't have much family. I can't afford to lose you."

"I'm ... I'm your family?"

"Course you are, Sarah." Her eyes glistened but her smile was pure joy. Hoggle couldn't help but smile back.

"You gots to promise me one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"If yer ever at the point where you thinking killing yerself is the only option, you'll ask for help. It don't have to be me; could be Didymus, or Ludo, or heck even that rat Jareth, but you don't face it alone. Promise me you'll talk to someone." He watcher her with a measured look that said he'd know if she lied to him. She didn't.

"I promise, Hoggle. I try not to make the same mistake twice.".

"That's my Sarah. Although calling on Jareth twice..." Her laughter rung out.

"I could get used to hearing that, Sarah. You'll see. A few days rest and some proper feeding, and you'll be ready to take on Jareth just like old times. Now what's say we go wake those sluggards and find something to eat."

And that's what they did.

--------------------------------

Many thanks for the continued reviews, alerts, and faves. A special thanks to American Woman whose reviews got me thinking about Jareth's reaction to hearing Sarah's story; I couldn't quite work in the 'good cop-bad cop' dynamic you suggested, but it seemed fair to give Jareth another short scene. Thanks to Fairies Midwife, as well, who was able to assure me of the realism of Sarah's cluelessness.

All of your reviews give me great pleasure – please keep them coming. It helps to know what lines stick out as particularly appropriate or inappropriate, if you're stuck for something to say. I'm also curious what you think of Hoggle's explanation of the Labyrinth as a place for lost things.


	5. Chapter 5: Love Descends on Tho

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5: Love Descends on Those Defenseless

Sarah was deeply asleep for the first time in months, which was why she didn't notice when someone entered the little room Hoggle had apologetically locked her into at the end of the day. What woke her was the feeling of something large and sausage-like poking her rudely in the stomach.

"Come on lazybones. Up and at 'em!"

The gravelly and unfamiliar voice convinced her to peel open her eyelids and focus blearily on its owner, an action she immediately regretted. It wasn't that the woman's skin was green – Sarah had seen odder things in the Labyrinth – or that she took up nearly all the available space in the room – Ludo was at least as large. It was the sliver tipped tusks protruding from a grin full of sharp teeth that Sarah wasn't sure she could handle at such close proximity, first thing in the morning. She at least managed not to scream, though her shock must have been evident. The giant creature rumbled in laughter.

"Don't worry, dearie. I'm not going to eat you. Leastwise not till we fatten you up a bit! Not enough meat on you worth making a meal out of!" This was followed with another jolting poke from the woman's large fingers.

Even half asleep, Sarah heard the testing humour in the other's voice. She swallowed her fear, thinking quickly. "You must be Narga. Hoggle said you were a bit of an ogre."

The rumbled laughter turned into a full, booming laugh, infectious as is was loud. "That Hoggle. More than a bit, I'd say. I'm three quarters ogre. My grandma was human, but my pa was a full blood ogre prince! And, yes, I'm Narga, mistress of his majesty's kitchens. Which means you'll be working for me until the castle decides you're needed elsewhere. So let's get you up and get us both back to the kitchens before someone comes scampering by screaming that the oven's on fire or the stew's developed vocal chords. Can't leave those goblins alone for five minutes without – lords of chaos girl, what are you wearing?!"

"Uh... jeans and a t-shirt?" She hadn't wanted to sleep in the dresses Jareth had left her. Sleeping in jeans hadn't been terribly comfortable, but Narga's unexpected arrival confirmed her decision that sleeping nude wasn't an intelligent option.

"Jeens?" The ogress touched a leg reverently. "Well that's far too precious for kitchen work, and you shouldn't be sleeping in it, either. Just like a man to forget you'd need sleeping things. Well, let's see what else we've got, hrm." She reached over and popped the wardrobe open. "You've got to be kidding me." Sarah decided instantly that she never wanted to be on the receiving end of that glower.

"What's wrong?"

"Does the man think you're some kind of doll to be dressed up and put in storage when he's not around? No sleeping clothes, and dresses only fit for court days. I'll bet he didn't even think to supply you with underthings." Sarah could only blush at the thought of the Goblin King selecting bras for her. "I thought not. That man. When I get through with him—" A knock at the door saved Sarah from having to contemplate the dressing down Narga planned to give Jareth for not supplying her with underwear.

"Ah, Sand, you're just in time! We have a crisis. His high and mighty, peacock pants has conveniently forgotten that the rest of us common folk need clothes we can actually work in. You're about Sarah's size; be a dear and run down to the stores, will you? She'll need work cloths, underthings, and something to sleep in." Sarah cast a despairing glance at the willowy blond whom she could just see in the door frame past Narga's bulk. The other woman was only close to Sarah's size in comparison to Narga's large frame.

"Sandrelia Aurelius Linlithgow at yer service, Sara, but ye can call me Sand." The woman's Scottish burr gave her introduction a musical lilt. "Dina fasch yerself about the clothes. I'm a better judge of size than Nagger here." She grinned at Narga's mock growl. "I'll be richt back," and with that, she sprinted off.

"Sand'll take care of you till you get settled into castle life. As long as you're staying in this room, she'll come collect you in the mornings and make sure you're tucked back in at night." Narga frowned thoughtfully. "Now, I can guess a little at why his majesty put you here and wants me to keep an eye on you, and I can see for myself you've not been well. Try anything stupid under my watch and I will not be pleased. Trust me, you don't want me angry at you." Sarah could only nod her agreement. "Good girl. Take care of yourself, do your work, try to get along with the rest of the staff, and we'll be just fine. Soon as I think you're on the mend, we'll move you to another room and you can get into regular trouble along with everyone else. Deal?"

A slow smile grew on Sarah's face. She had a job, she had a place to stay, and she would answer to Narga, whom she was fast deciding she liked, not directly to Jareth, the thought of whom twisted her stomach in uncertainty. She still ached for her father's loss, but here she had her friends and a whole world full of adventure to explore. It was definitely a life worth living.

"Deal." Narga's answering toothy grin emboldened her. "If it's not too personal, can I ask... how does the daughter of a prince end up working for the Goblin King?"

"Oh, ma and pa never married. There's was one of those secret, passionate love affairs. But when pa found out ma was pregnant, well... we ogres are a proud race, and you just don't bring a half-breed home to meet the royal parents, you know? So pa chased ma off with a club and she eventually ended up here. His Majesty thought'd be good to have a couple ogres around to scare the runners; didn't know that I'd grow up to spend more time chewing his ass than theirs! He's great at the big picture stuff, but can't attend to the details to save his pretty little behind. Case in point," she added, waving a large hand at the near empty wardrobe. Sarah couldn't help but giggle at Narga's perspective on the man who'd turned her world inside out. Twice.

"So is your moth-your ma still chasing runners for him, then?"

"Oh, no, ma died of a broken heart not long after his majesty took us in." For a moment, Sarah thought the ogress was joking, but her expression was clearly serious.

"Oh! I'm sorry."

"Ah, don't be. She always was a romantic, what with the prince sweeping her off her feet and all. It was the right way for her to go."

"I'd heard the expression 'dying of a broken heart' before. I should have guessed something like that could really happen down here."

"Sure it can, dearie. Why the king himself took seriously ill, must've been near twelve years ago now, and everyone knows it was lovesickness. He never fully recovered – lost a lot of his spark, and the court's a quieter place for it. The goblins used to hold a party every time a new runner came through; now... well, I miss the chaos. We make do, and there's always hope his majesty'll fall in love again, but things'll get back to normal eventually. You gotta be patient with his kind – they live so long that a couple of decades of moping is like having a bad week for us common folk."

"How... how old is he?"

"The Goblin King? Hard to say. Four or five centuries at least. His kind's long lived anyway, but magic does funny things to life span. Even you're likely to live a couple of centuries as long as you're here. The Labyrinth likes him, so it'll keep him around for a long time yet. You alright, girl?"

Sarah was not alright, though she couldn't quite explain why. Jareth had still been a symbol in her mind, if no longer the villain, then at least the distant, impenetrably aloof king, not a man who had experienced life for half a millennium, who had fallen in love and suffered for it. It threw the pain she'd seen in his eyes during her own run in a new light, and she found herself rethinking his cruelty, his sudden temper, his sarcastic comments. Were they the symptoms of a man who'd survived lovesickness? She didn't regret saving Toby, or the chance she'd had to grow in facing the Labyrinth, but she couldn't help feeling a bit of sympathy and even respect for a man who had continued to do his job in spite of his own personal pain. She shook her head.

"Every time I think I've got things sorted, the rules all change again." Narga's laughter refused to let her mope.

"Ah, child, that's what life's all about. It'd be pretty boring otherwise." Sarah was saved from responding by Sand's return, her arms piled full of sensible clothes. In short order, Sarah was changed and the three of them hurried down to the kitchens, Narga muttering all the way about the goblins having likely burnt it down already. When they arrived, Narga dove into what Sarah later learned was organized chaos, barking orders, growling at goblins, and tossing the occasional kitchen denizen out the nearest door or window. Sarah was more than happy to have Sand guide her to a trestle in the corner where they could help themselves to a modest breakfast before being put to work. The main kitchen in which they sat was cavernous, dominated by a bank of huge ovens and a matching row of hearths with cauldrons of various sizes simmering over glowing coals. Goblins and other creatures swarmed around long tables, chopping, kneading, washing, and the space between was flooded with steam, raised voices, and a dozen different savoury smells, all in competition with each other. Despite the open windows, a moist heat permeated the room, and Sarah could already feel sweat prickle on her scalp.

"Is it always like this?" Sarah seriously wondered how long she would last. Sand laughed.

"Somewhiles waur. Whan his majesty has out-land guests, Nagger gets sair crabbit. Dinna worry yerself, though. If ye watch, ye'll see she ne'er thraws onybody who canna tak a guid heave, and the heat's a braw thang in the winter." Sarah wasn't certain how reassuring she found this, but true enough, Narga seemed to know just what attitude to take to get the most out of each of her workers. With Sarah, she was gentle and cheerful, setting her to work in a relatively quiet corner peeling an endless quantity of root vegetables. Sarah shook her head a little at the thought of being left alone in a dark corner with a sharp knife, but it felt like the darkness of only yesterday was something from another lifetime. Instead, she found a quiet joy in accomplishing something, even something as simple as peeling vegetables, and she watched the bustle of kitchen activity with amusement. As the morning wore on, however, she felt her previous day's exhaustion returning. Determined to prove her usefulness, she pushed on, trying to ignore the din around her as it became increasingly oppressive. She jumped a little when Sands suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Nagger says ye're as stubborn as a stane and if ye don't stop acting like a goblin, she's going to heave ye oot the door like one." Sarah looked around for the ogress and found her glaring disapprovingly from across the room as she stirred a giant kettle by means of a goblin clinging to a large spoon. "She also says we should get some dinner and then I should tak ye round the castle." Sand's grin was playful. "Unless ye want to peel tatties all day?"

Sarah dropped the paring knife gratefully. "Lead on McDuff." At the other woman's confused expression, Sarah spread her hands and chuckled wearily, "Quote. Sort of. Just, please, get me out of here, before I start throwing potatoes at those screechy things washing dishes." Sand grinned in sympathy and led her out of the kitchens, snagging a portable lunch as they set out on Sarah's tour of her new home.

------------------------------

And another chapter up, despite catching the Christmas plague and having my laptop die. I think that merits a review, don't you? If you're stuck for something to say, name a room Sand should include on her tour.

Apologies for not responding to all the reviews this time – see the excuse above. ;) However, a quick nod to FairiesMidwife (yes, he's definitely torn at this point), and assurance to AmericanWoman (it really is a romance, just the slow burn kind – and thanks for getting me to think a bit more about the kitchens as a setting). Thank you all for your responses to the 'king of lost things' idea!

Now if Sarah would only stop making assumptions and do the math….


	6. Chapter 6: There’s No Place Like Home

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual. Thanks to Shadow-D'hampyr, Lady Yunie, Nyakai, and luna andie for their room requests and suggestions – the "Room with a View" is Nyakai's brilliant invention. I've also decided to tone down Sandrelia's Scottish dialect – it's hard to write and even harder to understand, so please pretend she's got all the funky words still going on, but that the story comes with a built in babel fish translator.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6: There's No Place Like Home

Sand led Sarah out into the blessedly fresh air, and they ate their lunch in a courtyard near the stables, watching grooms exercise the two-legged, goblin mounts. As Sarah's energy returned, so did her curiosity.

"Are you... are you really human?"

"Aye, I were wished away when I were wee. I canna remember much of Aboveground, but I ken I was happier here than I ever were Above!"

"You were wished away? But... I thought he...that is..." Sand rolled her eyes.

"Ye thought the bairns wished away were turned into goblins?" At Sarah's mute nod, she laughed. "Ye must've been a runner, then. They always make that mistake. Think, Sarah, did his majesty ever say he'd turn yer... did he ever say he'd turn the wee'un into a goblin?" Sarah struggled to remember, muttering the words as they came back to her.

"You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us forever. Huh. 'One of us.' One of the first things I learned in the Labyrinth was not to take things for granted. You think I would have figured that one out sooner."

"Would it have mattered to ye?" Sarah's eyes widened in surprise, hearing the note of disapproval in the other woman's voice.

"No, of course not! I still would have saved Toby. It was my fault, and my responsibility to fix it." Sand grinned her approval, her temporary wariness dissipating.

"That's what I thought. You wouldna have taken his place if you didna care." Sarah felt weak in the knees.

"Taken his place? I could have done that?" Sarah wasn't sure how many more shocks she could take today.

"Wait, you mean ye...? Then how...?" Sarah grimaced, uncomfortable with explaining the whole story.

"I ran the Labyrinth a long time ago, and I got my brother back. But I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention that to anyone else. I don't think Jar– the king would like me talking about it. He's been pretty generous," Sarah stumbled over the word, "taking me in this time." The knowledge of the gratitude she owed the Goblin King – again – left a bitter taste in her mouth. She told herself it was only the annoyance of being obligated to a man she didn't trust.

"A champion of the Labyrinth," she whistled, "that's a secret to be kept. Dinna worry. I'll be still as a stone. Ye'll meet other humans here, but they'll assumed ye were wished away unless ye let on otherwise."

"But if you all grew up here, won't they know I don't belong." Sand laughed merrily in response.

"Och, what would the Goblin King do with a passle of bairns? Nay, those of us who are healthy are fostered out to families what yearn for bairns of their own. The only thing the king asks in return is that we serve a stint in the castle when we're grown. We can stay on longer if we like – I'm near finished my term here, but I've no better place to be."

"So... you like it here?"

"Aye. His majesty's a fair king, and even tempered as his kind go. And mortals dinna do so well in some of the other kingdoms." Sarah digested this.

"What happens to the unhealthy ones? You said healthy children were fostered, but what about the others."

Sand's sunny face clouded. "Aye, those are the sad ones. I'll never understand how Abovegrounders can be so cruel. What happens to them depends on how bad they're hurt. If his majesty can nurse them back to health, then they're fostered out too, but always nearby where he can keep an eye on their progress."

"And if not?" Sarah wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Ah, well, those ones he does turn into goblins." Sarah discovered that she wasn't really surprised, or even upset. The goblins she'd seen were generally happy and imperturbable, and she said as much.

"Aye, and they're darn near indestructible, too, which is just as well, given trouble they get into. If he can't fix what's wrong with'em, at least he can make it so's they can't get hurt again." She eyed the remains of their lunch. "If ye're done?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. Ah, is there a trash can some…" Sarah trailed off awkwardly, realizing the absurdity of her question. Yesterday Hoggle had needed to explain chamber pots and privies to her, and here she was presuming Aboveground conventions again. Still, it didn't look like people just tossed their garbage on the ground. Sand giggled at her consternation.

"Follow me," she said, gathering up the remnants. She led Sarah around the side of the castle, near where Sarah suspected the kitchens might be, and unlocked a little gate to reveal a large stone pit. It looked to be partly filled with rubbish, but there was no smell, and the entire surface was covered in a shimmering, rainbow coloured substance that glistened in the sun. "Watch," Sand whispered mischievously, lobbing the leftovers of their lunch as far as she could across the pit. Sarah gasped as the glistening substance suddenly erupted in a cloud of beautiful little winged creatures who boiled around the fallen scraps. Looking closely, Sarah saw that they were squabbling over the food, greedily devouring whatever they could grab.

"Fairies," she noted distastefully.

"Aye. Nasty wee beasties, but they'll eat anything – and I do mean anything." The women watched the fairies settle back down again, their wings camouflaging with the material of their home, and then set off on the tour.

The castle was huge. Sarah had suspected as much, intellectually, but it was another thing to experience it first hand. Sand started in the servants' quarters, pointing out the entrance to the goblin army barracks as they went by. At Sarah's query, she explained that there were around two hundred living in the castle proper, of which around fifty were in the army. Sarah's derisive comment about the effectiveness of that army was met with a gentle reprimand as Sand pointed out that the army aimed to slow runners, not kill them. She assured Sarah that the goblin army could be quite effective when it wanted to be. Chagrined, Sarah asked about the rest of the castle's inhabitants, and Sand explained that while everyone had some role to play, most of them worked in the stables, the kitchens, or did the housekeeping.

"It's not all done with magic?" Sand looked at her wide-eyed.

"Ye really aren't from the Underground, are ye? Magic has a way of soaking into things over time, of making them aware of ye. That's one thing if ye're talking about something like the Labyrinth, but ye dinna want yer dishes telling tales or yer wardrobe deeming yer appearance, do ye? The best wrights always swear that their work be without glamour, and you can tell a family's down on their luck if the furniture starts to murmle. His majesty would be furious if he found any of us using magic to do our work. Be sure you dinna try it."

"But I don't have any magic."

"Ye will."

"Wait. What?"

"Aye, we all get some, mair or less. I can make a light in the dark, and halt somewhat before it reaches the floor, if I've got my mind to it. Small things. The Labyrinth's full of wild magic, and it seeps into us just as glamour seeps into things it's used on." Sarah was so stunned by this that she barely murmured when Sand showed her the grand library, its walls crammed full with leather bound volumes, although she mentally noted the comfortable looking furniture and the mahogany writing desk perched beside a large window that overlooked the Labyrinth. Sarah followed silently as Sand led her down innumerable halls, pointing out rooms and passages Sarah was sure she would never remember. She balked, however, when Sand lead her towards an all too familiar archway.

"What's wrong?"

"I know what's through there. That's... that's the throne room, isn't it."

"Aye?"

"He won't be in there, will he? I don't think I could face him, just yet."

Sand's laughter rung out. "His majesty only uses the throne room on court days. Most days, if he's in the castle at all, he'll be in his study or walking the stair room." Sarah shivered at the memory of her own experience in the latter, doubly determined to avoid it if Jareth made a habit of walking there. "Ye really should see the throne room – it's the bonniest room in the castle!" Sarah couldn't resist the tug of curiosity. Her memory supplied only a dingy, littered room with a tattered throne looming at one end. How could this be the most beautiful room in the castle?

If Sarah had not recognized the entrance, she would never have known it for the same room. Not only was it clear of debris, but the walls and floor had been meticulously cleaned to reveal soft grey and cream coloured stone. Thick red and blue cushions lined the benches along the walls and the edges of the pit in the centre of the room. Rich, purple silk draped from bright gold rings that glittered on the white bone of the throne's frame, and overhead an intricately carved crown glinted with gilded gold. On either side were carved stone balconies that Sarah had not noticed during her first visit, their long, ribbon like panels decorated with vibrant, detailed paintings and framed with a jewelled border of blue and red stones. With a gasp, Sarah realized the pictures were moving.

"Aye. They're views of the Labyrinth, some current, some past. Most of the time it's just fer show, but the images change to match the time. I've seen his majesty use them on court days, when he gets contrary tales from petitioners."

"They're beautiful. The whole room... it's breath-taking. When did he change it? It's so much – oh!" She missed Sand's confused expression as the paintings swirled into new images. In a moment of déjà vu, she saw four indistinct figures enter the room as it had once looked, the large, red one recognizable as Ludo. One figure went up the stairs while the others held back. The next image showed the collapse of the Escher room, followed by the image of Jareth's expression when she had refused his final offer. Sand gasped to see her king so depicted, and Sarah felt a twinge of sympathy, even knowing that she'd had little choice at the time. That image faded to show just the room, sometimes with rain falling past the open windows, for a time with snow drifting in, but always empty. And then, one bright day, the Goblin King returned, a determination evident in the step of his tiny figure as he surveyed the room and began issuing orders, goblins and other creatures scurrying around his feet in sudden industry. Yet when the image focused in on the Goblin King's face, it revealed the same haunted expression lingering in his eyes. The panels picked up the image, repeating it until the two women were surrounded by the Goblin King's mournful gaze. Sarah's earlier sympathy was replaced by annoyance swiftly turning into anger. She got the distinct feeling that someone was trying to make her feel guilty, and that really wasn't fair – no matter what Jareth might say about a basis for comparison. Fine, she'd been a brat as a runner and hadn't made it easy on Jareth, but he hadn't laid out the red carpet and roses, either, and they'd been competing for the life of her baby brother. She'd done what she'd had to, and no stupid mural was going to make her regret that!

Sand sighed. "I hadna realized our king suffered so much pain." Sarah glanced at Sand in surprise, realizing suddenly that they had read the events depicted quite differently. The mural had not, thankfully, shown Sarah's face.

"Let's get out of here. This is giving me the creeps."

Sand seemed amused. "Would ye like to see the stair room?"

Sarah shuddered. "No thanks!" Once was enough.

Sand laughed. "Are ye sure. His majesty's chambers are just on the other side."

"No!" Sand's teasing laughter earned her a glower, and Sarah stomped off down the hall that she knew did not lead to the Escher room. By the time Sand had caught up with her, Sarah was standing, entranced, in front of a set of intricately carved double doors. When Sand saw what had Sarah's attention, her expression shuttered.

"The ballroom. It's off limits."

"To servants?"

"To everyone." Her tone was surprisingly bitter. At Sarah's curious glance, Sand shook her head apologetically. "His majesty had it closed years ago, before I arrived. Not even the goblins dare go in."

"But why?" Sarah itched to look inside. "Is it structurally unsound or something?"

"Nay. I dinna ken the whole story. Somwhat happened, and his Majesty stopped singing, forbade anyone to enter the ballroom. Like I said, it happened before I arrived."

"He sang a lot?" Sarah felt a strange flutter in her chest, remembering when he had sung to her.

"All the time. They say his voice were like a warm breeze, or a bairn's laugh, or a lover's caress as he willed it. They say he took great pleasure in making his subjects smile." Sarah had trouble reconciling this version of the Goblin King with the one she'd faced, but she was also certain she was missing something.

"Sand…what's wrong?" The other woman's cheerful demeanour was buried in an anguished whisper.

"I've never heard the Goblin King sing." Sarah bit her lip, uncertain of how to respond. "My parents were so grateful that he had given me to them. They knew how much he loved music. So they raised me to love it as well, taught me to sing, to play half a dozen instruments. He closed the ballroom two years before I arrived." She shrugged helplessly. "Near ten years I've been here, and not once have I been able to give the king the gift my parents prepared for him. They dinna blame me, but… I keep hoping someday…"

Sarah felt a flash of anger at Jareth's callous disregard for his subjects' emotions. "That arrogant bastard. He should have found out what you could do! You shouldn't be mouldering away in the kitchens!"

Sand gaped at her in shock before lashing back with a matching fiery temper. "Ye mustn't presume to deem his majesty! Ye have no idea what he's been through – ye saw the pain in his eyes – and despite all that he's a good king. He takes bairns what aren't wanted and gives em good homes. He harbours mortals when other kingdoms would as soon spit on us. He's a good man!" Sarah blinked rapidly. The other woman's fierce defence reminded Sarah that yet again she didn't really know what she was talking about, and inwardly she was forced to admit that she was still reacting to her own discomfort from her experience in the throne room. Sheepishly she apologized and, mollified, Sand continued. "Besides, his majesty rarely assigns us our tasks. That's the Labyrinth's doing, and if the Labyrinth thinks I'm best put to work in the kitchens, then that's where I needs be."

Sarah eyed the walls warily. "The Labyrinth… decides?"

"Och, aye. Ye ken what I said about things absorbing magic? Well, the Labyrinth has been absorbing magic for longer than anyone can remember. If it wants ye ta go somewhere, you will. If it donna, nothing ye do will change that. If ye can do something that's needed, ye'll end up somewhere where ye can serve the Labyrinth best. That's how Nagger ended up in the kitchens, how we got a herbalist, the castle seamstresses…" She shrugged, patient conviction replacing her earlier distress. "As long as I'm doing what's needed, it's good enough for me." Sarah frowned. It wasn't… fair. But that's the way it was. And suddenly it was all too much. Lessons she'd learned long ago kept coming back to haunt her. Every time she thought she was on stable ground, she discovered she'd taken things for granted again. From the moment she'd woken up, nothing had been as expected – not that she'd known what to expect, but even the little things she thought she'd known about Jareth, about the Labyrinth, had turned out to be wrong. She wanted to curl up on the floor and weep.

"Och, Sara, I'm sorry. I shouldna have snapped at you so. I ken yer only new here, and if ye were a runner, ye'd not have seen his majesty at his kindest." The last comment nearly undid Sarah completely. On some level, she suspected the Goblin King had been kinder to her than most runners, or at least more interested in her progress. True, he'd sent the cleaners after her, but he'd also sung to her while they'd danced, pleaded with her at the end. Everything she'd learned today recast those last two meetings in her mind, filtered them through a haunted expression that could not be banished from her memory. She drew a shaky breath and struggled to regain some composure, if only to reassure the now anxious woman beside her.

"No, no, it's just that I'm so tired. I hadn't realized… but there's just so much…." She shook her head helplessly. Sand sat back on her heels slightly, her lips pursed in a little frown.

"I really am a fool. Of course yer tired! There's no need to see everything in one day! Come, I'll show ye my favourite room, and we can bide there till supper." Sarah answered Sand's reassuring smile as best she could and followed the other woman wearily through the halls. They stopped in front of a non-descript door at the top of a landing. Strangely, Sand stood with her palm against the door frame but gestured to Sarah to open the door. When Sarah complied, she gasped, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

The scene before her was impossible. Sarah knew they were deep inside the walls of the castle and several floors above ground, but the door opened on to a broad field of heather, heavy purple blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze that swirled their scent to where Sarah was standing. A little brook chattered happily nearby, and the sun kissed her skin. In the distance she could see a rise of large hills, or possibly small mountains made hazy with distance and a light mist. To her right, she could see a castle, but it was a small, tidy affair, not the rambling chaos of the Castle beyond the Goblin City.

"What… where…?" She turned her confused gaze back to Sand, who was still standing in the doorway, grinning gleefully.

"It's my home. Or a copy of it, anyway. Welcome to The Room with a View." Sarah could hear the capital letters.

"A… copy?"

"Aye. Ye can't actually go more than a few feet in before you hit the far wall, but any place ye can hold in yer mind, the room can make a glamour for ye. I think his majesty made it for the wished away who come to serve here, for when they miss home, but no one kens for sure. Do ye want to try it?" A spark of curiosity led Sarah to nod shyly, and Sand directed her to place her hand on the doorframe and image the space she wanted to see. Sarah hesitated. What she wanted, with all her heart, was to go home, not the dingy little apartment she'd lived in, but the home where her father was still alive, where Toby would come toddling into her room to pester her, where Irene would insist on mothering her. As tears prickled her eyes, the scene in the doorway shifted, swirled, and resettled into a perfect replica of her old bedroom. The vanity was cluttered with books and cheap jewellery, the bed an unmade nest. There was even a half-eaten sandwich resting on a plate balanced precariously on a stack of books. The books leaned against an overstuffed reading chair that her father had wrestled into the room for her on her sixteenth birthday. 'So she could have some privacy when she wanted to read,' he'd said. Sarah gasped painfully at the memory. No, it was too soon to see this. Hastily she called up a different image, the little park near her home with its familiar stone bench and lush green trees. As the room settled again, she could hear the river in the distance, smell the fresh scent of a recent rain shower. Breathing in the cool air, she felt calmer, grounded in the familiar sight, even knowing it was an illusion. She glanced over at Sand, who was looking around in obvious admiration.

"Thank you. This is… good."

"Aye, I thought ye could use a dose of it. Mind, ye can come here whenever ye like, so long as no one else is using it. Just ask the castle, and it'll bring ye here." She looked a little shy, suddenly. "If ye wish, sometime, I could show ye some of the other places I've been Underground. It's not as good as going yerself, but it's better than nought."

"I'd like that." And Sarah smiled, one of those open, joyful smiles that had won the Goblin King's heart, and Hoggle's, and Sir Didymus's, and Ludo's, and now Sand's as the two soon to be fast friends made their way to the little stone bench and spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing and enjoying the view.

------------------------------

You see how I give you Jareth but don't give you Jareth? I'm not trying to be cruel. Really. He's just terribly moody right now. I'm sure he'll grace us with his presence soon.

*peers around a partition*

Right, my lord? Soon?

*looks back*

Ah, er, well… I'll do my best. Perhaps if you tell him how much you like his castle? Royalty responds well to flattery. So do writers. ;)

Thank you all for your continued review, alerts, and faves. There are now officially more people reading this story than will ever read the stuff I write in my day job. It's humbling and gratifying all at the same time.


	7. Chapter 7: Put on Your Red Shoes

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

I'm not sure if it was the threats or the polite pleas, by you seem to have gotten through. I present his majesty, the Goblin King.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7: Put on Your Red Shoes

Jareth managed to ignore Sarah's presence in the Labyrinth for nearly an entire week. After assigning her to the kitchens and Narga's watchful eye, he had dismissed her from his thoughts. After all, she was just another foolish mortal who didn't appreciate the preciousness of life. He did not think of her as he stretched his wings over the Labyrinth. He did not ponder her well-being while listening to his subjects' petty complaints on court days. He did not sense her echo as he paced the stairs of the Escher room. He did not think of her at all.

Not, that is, until Narga sent a gibbering little goblin to inform him that the ogress had given Sarah permission to explore the castle unaccompanied. Jareth frowned at Narga's judgement, letting the girl (woman, his mind reminded him) wander alone so soon. He only decided to watch her through a crystal as a precautionary measure. Even if Narga was right and Sarah was well enough to be on her own, there were all sorts of dangers she might wander into accidentally. It was a testament to his regal generosity that he should be concerned for the welfare of even the least of his subjects. That was the only reason he watched her slip tentatively into the library, watched her browse the shelves, awe warring with frustration on her delicate features, watched her run a gentle hand along the blank sheaves of paper sitting at the writing desk. He tensed when she stopped at the window by the desk, but she only rested her forehead on the glass, gazing out at the Labyrinth. Her expression was still, her gaze distant, giving him no clue to her thoughts. After a time, she turned back to the shelves, eventually selecting a small volume and settling onto one of the couches to read. Still later, she stood, stretched, returned the book to its shelf, and made her way back to her room, pulling the door closed with a reluctant sigh. When Jareth realized how much time had passed, he told himself that he had simply been avoiding the rather tiresome high court correspondence that littered his desk. He needed a break, that was all. He would go flying in the morning to clear his head.

And when, returning from that flight, he saw Sarah standing by the stables, he told himself it was only curiosity that had him winging to a nearby perch, only exhaustion from the flight that set his owl's breast trembling. But even he could not justify the pang of jealousy he felt when she cuddled one of the young hunting hounds, when she laughed at the kitten who clambered up her skirt, when she smiled in welcome at the arrival of another servant, the Linlithgow woman. Nor could he deny the significance of his desire to follow them into the town, despite having already worn himself out in his long morning's flight. He knew then that he had been fooling himself, that he had only kept Sarah from his thoughts through an act of will. His very breath was aware of her presence; his whole being yearned to bring her closer, to feel the softness of her skin, smell the sweet scent of her hair, lose himself in the forest of her eyes.

With an angry squawk, he launched himself up, into the castle, determined to bring his unruly heart under control before it could undermine him again. He would not see her. He would not think of her. He would not play the fool again.

~*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*~

Sarah's eyes traced the intricate figures that graced the ballroom door. Some magic made them seem to sway and spin at under her gaze and she could not help the smile that lit her features. She had been given permission to go exploring again, and this time her aimless steps had lead her here. Curiosity tugged her closer. Was it the same ballroom she had danced in? But no, he'd closed it before her run, hadn't he? But perhaps he'd modelled her dream on it? She sighed at the romantic notions that flitted through her thoughts, reminding herself firmly that fantasy and reality were two very separate things. He had expressed no interest in her since she'd arrived, which was, she told herself, for the best. She wondered, nonetheless, what the ballroom looked like. Surely no one would notice if she took a quick peek?

Checking first to make sure the hallway was clear, Sarah eased open the latch to the large doors and slipped inside. Light sprung up the instant her foot touched the floor, and Sarah gasped her astonishment at the pearlescent scene before her. It was almost exactly as she remembered it. The cushions, tables and streamers were gone, as was the press of people, but she recognized the scroll work on the pillars, the vault of the ceiling, the cascade of chandeliers. Quietly she descended the stair nearest the door and trailed out into the middle of the ballroom floor, her memories filling the room with lasciviously masked figures and a handsome king who sang of love and the stars. The tightness of memory in her chest echoed the weight of the gown she had worn, the fear and innocence and wonder that had stolen her breath as she had danced in his arms. She swayed to the remembered lyrics, her feet tentatively feeling out familiar patterns, unaware that the music in her head was echoed in the room around her. That is, until it was cut off suddenly by an angry and familiar voice:

"You. What are you doing here?"

Jareth was seething with rage. His anger stripped the calm of pleasant memories from her, reopening the pain and bleakness that had only just begun to heal. She lashed out angrily, knowing she was acting childishly, but not caring. "Well, gee, Jareth, it's a ballroom. What do people do in a ballroom, again? Oh, yeah, they dance."

The acid hit its mark, a little more effectively than Sarah had expected. In a second he was in front of her, his hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her eyes to his black, growling gaze. "You" he snarled "will address me as your majesty and show respect for your king, or you will discover that the bog of eternal stench is a child's sandbox compared to some areas of my Labyrinth." With an angry shove, he pushed her away. "Besides, I would hardly call that random seizing that you mortals practice aboveground these days 'dancing.'" He enjoyed the sputtering rage tinged with terror on her face, but he had not expected her furious riposte.

"I'm surprised that your majesty manages to rule his kingdom when he knows so little about his own subjects."

"I base my assessment on experience, I assure you, or do you forget that I have had the misfortune of dancing with you before?" He thrilled at the pain that crossed her expression, knowing he had scored a point, and he ignored the twinge of guilt that whispered to him of her untrained grace, even then. That same rebel voice cheered when she rallied.

"As I'm sure you know, your majesty, mortal lives are short. Unlike some, we aim to improve our failings while we can."

The woman's tenacity, her courage in continuing to face him in his anger, her jibe against his faults of which he knew he had many, and the implication that she had, in fact, learned some skill over the years she had been aboveground, all these finally held sway with his anger. He regarded her coolly, arms crossed, as he assessed her form, pleased by the fiery temper that met him stare for stare. Yes, she did have a dancer's poise, now that she was no longer consumed by fatigue and despair. He stepped back and, with a gesture, indicated the open floor.

"Prove it."

Sarah blinked rapidly, unbalanced by this sudden change in tactic, but she recovered herself. This was familiar territory, an echo of dozens of auditions and competitions. She moved to the centre of the floor and then paused, uncertain.

"Well?" The snidely disinterested tone said clearly that he expected little of her. This, too, was familiar, and Sarah suddenly relaxed, remembering a host of bitter and bored competition judges and directors, men and women who had seen too many eager and untalented performers. They had always dismissed her in advance because she'd started training so late, but her instructors had taught her how to face this prejudice gracefully. In stark contrast to her early anger, she simply raised an eyebrow at his tone and asked, "with or without music?"

Jareth was careful not to show his surprise. It was a question that demonstrated real training. Music could mask a lack of fine control in an inexperienced dancer, so the willingness to dance without it suggested that Sarah had confidence in her control and timing. He knew he could spot technical proficiency regardless, however, and he was more curious to see how she responded to the music.

"With."

"How do I...."

"Hear it in your head and the room will echo it." His heart skipped a little at the awed delight that flitted across her face before she frowned in concentration, focusing on the music she wanted. It was the stirring of this glamour that had alerted him to her intrusion in the first place, although he had no intention of telling her that it required a significant measure of personal magic to awaken the room's latent power. He had hoped that the Labrynth would only grant her one of the small magics, that she would simply fade into the background of his life. As he watched her begin to dance, he wondered, yet again, why he had ever expected anything simple could be applied to Sarah Williams.

She could dance. Oh to be certain, she was mortal, and so limited a little in how far she could push her human frame. She was also clearly still weak, out of practice, her limbs trembling just a little, her breath a touch ragged, her footfalls audible under the music. But the beauty of her movements even so would have stolen the breath from many of the high court, a beauty made more painfully poignant because of its raw mortality. The rhythmic music teased limbs out from an impossibly tight human ball into weightless grace, tossed her in seeming chaos only to resolve in smooth, controlled arcs. Instinctively he adjusted the lights in the room, drowning himself in shadow, her in light. His heart plummeted with each suspension and release, soared as she spun. He could see elements of different schools in her choreography, but in a fusion entirely unfamiliar. Her body made love to the earth while aching to fly in the heavens. As she came to a panting halt in a crouch exactly where she had begun, Jareth found himself struggling with the betrayals of his heart and mind.

Sarah slowly became aware of the changed lighting as she regained her breath. Once the music had started, only the dance had existed for her. It was one of her favourites, not only because it showcased her talents well, but because it stood for all that had happened to her the first time she'd been in the Labrynth. It had been her dance with Jareth during that first visit, unlike anything she'd experienced before or since, that had awoken her passion for movement, and her triumph over the Labrynth that had given her the will and determination to learn, despite her age. She had learned faster than she'd had the right to expect, her body taking to the discipline with uncanny swiftness, and she often wondered if the peach she'd eaten had imparted more than a dream of dancing. Unwilling to question her fortune too closely, she had simply devoted herself to her new discipline, gradually developing her own style out of the techniques she learned voraciously. The dance she'd just completed had been her first in the new style, one of only a few she'd developed before her father's death, the one she had danced on that terrible day in fact. After, there hadn't seemed much point, or even opportunity. Now, her limbs protesting from long neglect, she couldn't fathom why she'd ever stopped. For that glorious stretch of time only her body and the music existed. She trembled with fear. What if he wouldn't let her dance? What if she wasn't good enough? When she'd pushed him before, she hadn't really cared how he responded, but now, she realized painfully, she had something to lose. She licked her lips and tried desperately for a suitably subservient tone. "Was that alright... your majesty?"

For a long moment, there was only silence, and Sarah began to despair. Had he left? Was it that bad? Then the darkness shifted a little and his voice drifted out, strangely hollow.

"What do you think of my library?"

Sarah blinked, thrown off guard yet again. Had he been watching her? She realized that it shouldn't have come as a surprise. "It is impressive, your majesty."

"But holds no interest for you? You were once so fond of books."

"Most of the books are in languages I can't understand." She wanted to scream in frustration. Why was he asking these inane questions? What did they have to do with anything? She kept a firm grip on her tone.

"And my stables?"

"I... enjoyed the puppies, your majesty, but the mounts scare me a little."

She heard him sigh in resignation, and the lights lifted slightly so that she could see his frustrated expression. "And yet, you are drawn here, expressly against my commands. It appears that the Labyrinth takes as much delight in thwarting me as you do." He frowned at her, but the import of his words overcame her anxiety. The Labyrinth had drawn her to the room, had been testing her to find a place for her, just as Sand had said it would.

"Then I can... come back here? I can come and dance here sometimes." Jareth snorted and brushed imaginary dust from his thigh.

"You will do more than dance 'sometimes', woman. The Labyrinth has decided that the ballroom should be reopened, and deemed you to be it's chief inhabitant. You will continue to serve in the kitchens, but you will add mistress of revels to your duties. I expect you to spend your afternoons here, and be prepared to entertain at court functions. It will be an improvement over drunken goblin choruses. Do not," he added fiercely, "disappoint me, Sarah."

Sarah had not felt such pure joy for so long that she thought her heart would burst. It lit her face, and her gratitude was sincere as she thanked him, not caring that his frown only deepened before he vanished wordlessly. Laughing, she echoed chords of joy through the room, skipping and spinning across the dance floor as long as her tired body would allow.

In his study, Jareth slumped in his chair, one hand pressed to his chest, the other clutching a crystal into which he gazed with tormented longing.

--------------------------------

Ok, kittens. I'm a little stuck on the next chapter. If you feel like helping me out, pick a character (any character) and tell me what you think his/her reaction would be to hearing about the re-opened ballroom and/or the new mistress of revels. Of course, regular reviews and statements of support are always welcome!


	8. Chapter 8: What Friends Are For

Apologies for the delay (though it's still Friday in North America if not here!). This chapter did not want to get written.

Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 8: What Friends Are For

"Sarah! Where have ye been? I've looked everywhere for ye!"

Sand's bright voice rang out, disrupting Sarah's pleasant reverie as she wandered aimlessly down the hallway, still floating on joy after her experience in the ballroom. Dazedly she turned to Sand, absently noting the relief on the other woman's face. Realizing guiltily that Sand must have been worried when she hadn't been able to find her, Sarah felt a surge of affection.

"I'm ok, Sand. I've just been... I've had the most...." Sarah shook her head. How could she describe what had just happened? It was all so surreal. Sand's concern resurfaced.

"Sarah, what's happened? Where were ye?"

Sarah felt a giddy grin slide onto her face.

"The ballroom."

Sand gasped, shock warring with excitement on her features.

"Ye didna do it! Sarah, yer mad. What's was it like? Och, you shouldna have. What if ye'd been caught? His majesty would–"

I did." Sarah interrupted Sand's excited babble. "He did."

Sand's expression was a picture of delighted terror. Mischief in her eyes, she leaned forward and took an audible sniff After a thoughtful pause, she leaned back, shaking her head.

"I dinna believe ye. T'would have merited a bogging for certain."

It took a moment for Sarah to catch on, and then both women were howling with laughter. Sarah had to prop herself against a wall to stay upright, clutching her belly.

"Oh my. I haven't laughed like that in forever." She gasped for breath, steadfastly not looking at Sand in order to avoid a relapse. "No, I'm serious. I really did go in, and he really did catch me. But it's ok. I mean, really ok. He..." She struggled to organize her thoughts. "When I was a runner, he tried to distract me from Toby with a dream set in that ballroom, a-a dance, and when I got home, I just... well, I guess I just kept dancing. When he found me there, today... well, we argued, but I ended up dancing, like an audition, and then he implied that the Labyrinth had led me to the room and said I was to come back to practice everyday. " Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "It's incredible, I can't—" Sarah stopped, suddenly aware of Sand's tense stillness. The other woman's expression was pained, and Sarah realized the implications even as Sand spoke.

"Ye danced for his majesty?" Sand's voice was thick with injured longing.

"Oh, Sand. I'm so sorry. I—"

"I dinna want to hear it." Sarah was stung by the fierce refusal and could only watch, stunned, as Sand turned on her heel and stormed away. She'd been so overwhelmed by her encounter with Jareth and its outcome, that it hadn't occurred to her how much it would hurt Sand, the women who had waited for ten long years for an opportunity to demonstrate her skills to the king. Sarah found herself struggling to breath around the ache of shame that flowered in her chest. The world that had moments before seemed to sparkle faded again to a bleak grey. Ugly thoughts tormented her: she deserved to be alone. She was so selfish that all she did was hurt those who befriended her.

Sarah drew a shuddering breath, her mind grasping at her promise to Hoggle. What would he say? She could almost hear his gruff voice: "Well stop bein' selfish, then." She took another deep breath. Yes. Curling up and feeling miserable wouldn't help Sand feel any better. Another breath. She wasn't sure what she could do to help, but letting Sand think she didn't care would make things worse. Pushing back against the bleakness, Sarah straightened her shoulders and set out to find her friend.

Sand was, as Sarah had expected, in the Room with a View. She stood , her blond hair tangling in the wind of a gloomy day as she stood among blowing the heather, the very picture of despondency.

"Sand?"

"Why ye, Sarah?" Sand didn't look up, but her injured tone drew Sarah into the room. "Ye've not been here two weeks. I've been here ten years. Ten. Years. What makes ye so special?"

Sarah sighed and settled to the ground, absently plucking a stalk of the little purple blossoms.

"I don't know, Sand. Jareth said that the Labyrinth was thwarting him by bringing me to the ballroom, so I don't think he's very happy about it either."

Sand looked at Sarah curiously. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but now her eyes were absorbed in studying the puzzle that Sarah presented. Sarah felt mildly uncomfortable with the attention, but she also noticed a break in the cloud cover reflecting Sand's shifting mood. She figured she could handle being under the microscope if it distracted Sand from her own pain.

"Ye call him Jareth. Ye've done it before."

Sarah shrugged, trying to ignore the strange shiver she felt hearing someone else say his name.

"I expect it's just that I'm an uncultured abovegrounder who doesn't know her place. Maybe the Labyrinth thinks the Goblin King needs a jester?" Sand rewarded her with a weak chuckle and sat beside her, hugging her knees to her chest. For a while, they just watched the clouds skittering along the horizon as Sarah slowly dissected the stem she held. She frowned as she thought back over her encounter with the Goblin King.

"Sand... what's a revel?" She sensed rather than saw the confused glance Sand gave her.

"Tis a celebration."

"Oh. Well, that makes more sense. I thought it had something to do with ice cream." The puzzled look on Sand's face deepened.

"Why do ye ask?"

"Something Jar—the king said. He said," she paused, searching for the exact words, "he said I would continue to serve in the kitchens but that I was to add 'mistress of revels' to my duties." Before she could puzzle it through further, however, Sand's squeal of excitement took her entirely by surprise, as did the hurtling hug that embraced her, knocking both of them over and stirring up the sweet scent of crushed flowers. She couldn't help but laugh at her friend's sudden ebullience as they disentangled themselves.

"What was that for?"

"He made ye mistress of revels!"

It was Sarah's turn to look confused.

"That's a good thing?"

Sand laughed. "Sarah, the mistress of revels is no common performer; she organizes the entertainments for the whole castle."

Sarah swallowed hard. "Organizes...?" She was suddenly reminded of Jareth's parting warning not to 'disappoint' him. "Oh no! Sand, what am I going to do? I don't know a thing about organizing events! I didn't even know what a revel was." She could feel her breath begin to hitch in panic, but Sand just laughed, placing a reassuring hand on Sarah's shoulder.

"Dinna worry. I was raised ta serve in a king's household, and ta perform for him. I ken everything ye'll need. But Sarah, think, the mistress of revels organizes all the king's entertainments..." She looked at Sarah expectantly, nearly vibrating with excitement. It didn't take long for Sarah to catch on.

"Including musical entertainment. Of course!" She made a show of clearing her throat and adopting a official persona. "Ms. Linlithgow, I am given to understand you have certain musical talents that might serve to ease our king's mind after his long days in court." Sand in turn adopted a pose of affected humility.

"My skills are meagre, milady, but I would be pleased to serve." They managed to hold their roles a moment longer, but then two of them collapsed in giggles over their own performance. Before long, however, Sarah's expression clouded.

"Sand, I... I'll do what I can to get you a chance to perform, absolutely. But I meant what I said earlier. He seemed pretty annoyed."

"He canna stay mad at ye forever, Sarah." Sarah looked at her dubiously.

"I wouldn't put it past him." Sand frowned at Sarah's bitter tone and then sighed.

"Ye've been here but a handful of days and already yer mistress of revels and ye've convinced his majesty to re-open the ballroom." She shook her head. "Yer special, that much is certain. If anyone can shift his majesty, it'll be ye. Besides," she grinned, "yer the best hope I've had in a decade. I dinna care if it takes another ten years. I've faith in ye."

Sarah groaned. "Fine. Whatever. Your wish is my command. Just remember that you promised to help me figure all this mistress stuff out."

"Of course," Sand exclaimed, getting to her feet and offering a hand to Sarah. "What are friends for?"

~*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*~

The next afternoon found both young women in the ballroom. Sarah had grown increasingly anxious about her new post when discussing it with her friends over supper the previous evening. Didymus had expressed his congratulations, but Hoggle had been more reticent.

"I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. What's he got up his sleeve?

"But brother, would you not wish to see our lady dance?"

"Of course I do. Not that he's ever gonna let the likes of us in that fancy room of his. But it's what else he expects her to do that worries me, this mistress of revels thing. Are you sure you really want to get involved with that, Sarah? From what you told us about that dream, well, that doesn't sound like the sort of thing you should have anything to do with."

Sand had looked confused. "What's he talking about?"

Her question had resulted in a rather hasty description of the ballroom dream, Sarah blushingly describing the lascivious behaviour of the guests, hinting at the things she'd glimpsed happening in the darker areas of the room, the obvious profession of the women who had been hanging off the Goblin King's arm.

"But it was only a dream, something meant t-to distract me," Sarah could feel her blush deepen as she thought about why Jareth had chosen that particular mode of distraction and what it said about her own desires, even at the age of fifteen. "Surely that's not how these things are really done. Right?"

As none of them had ever been to a real ball, never mind one attended by the sort of people that the Goblin King might invite, no one could either confirm or deny her statement, despite Sand's conviction that her king wouldn't be involved in that sort of thing. Hoggle had snorted in derision and then Sarah had found her hands full with preventing Didymus from defending Sand's supposedly wounded honour. None of the conversation had put her fears to rest, and by morning she was a nervous wreck. Narga, on the other hand, had laughed at the wild fancies Sarah's imagination had cooked up over night.

"His majesty's kind are hard to please, no doubt, and it's true that some might turn to darker pleasures for their entertainments, but he wouldn't stand for it here. Where did you get such foolish notions?" Sarah, unwilling to admit that she'd been a runner and that her own experiences formed the basis of her fears provided a lame excuse about an over-active imagination. Narga had frowned at her, obviously not convinced. Tapping a large finger thoughtfully on a polished tusk, she'd sent Sand off with her for the afternoon, suggesting that they look for the accounts of the last master of revels to learn more about the kinds of events the Goblin King had requested in the past. Sarah had understood that Narga was worried about her, and that Sand's presence was as much to keep an eye on her as it was to help her find the accounts, but she was grateful for the company nonetheless.

At the moment, Sand was standing in the middle of the ballroom, her eyes and mouth wide as she turned slowly, absorbing the splendour around her. Sarah began to giggle when Sand began her third revolution, which earned her a glare.

"Ye haven't spent the last ten years wondering what were behind those doors," she huffed. "It's bonnier than I could have dreamt."

"No, you're right. I remember when I first saw it, in the dream, I felt so small and out-of-place. It's breath-taking, even now. Just wait till you see it decorated and full of people!" The two women shared a grin.

"So... what do you want to hear?" At Sand's confused expression, Sarah clarified, "The room works on magic. You just think about the music you want to hear and it plays—what?"

"Ye can make music play?" Sarah felt unaccountably self-conscious.

"Yeah. I mean, it's part of the room, isn't it? Like the Room with a View?" Her stomach knotted as Sand shook her head.

"Nay, or mayhap in part, but it takes strong magic to use it." She grinned at Sarah's obvious consternation. "I said ye were special. And ye've not been here long at all, so ye'll most like get stronger o'er the next while." Sarah groaned, pulling her hands down over her face.

"Great. Just... great. As if I didn't have enough to adjust to." She sighed. "And I was kinda looking forward to hearing some underground music." Sand laughed, clapping her friend on the shoulder.

"Ye will soo—oh!" She stopped suddenly, her eyes glazing at the same time as Sarah felt something _shift _inside her. Seconds later, the room filled with a jaunty, fiddle tune, very much at odds with the shocked and distressed expression on Sand's face.

"Sarah, ye maun not do that!"

"Do what? What just happened?"

"Ye gave me the power to use the room's magic."

"I can do that?"

"Aye, but ye maun not. Tis' too dangerous. Sarah, magic is part of what keeps us alive. If ye use it up or give too much away, ye could die. Only the most powerful can afford to give magic away without fear of harm." Sarah sobered in the face of Sand's acute distress.

"But I don't know how I did it. How can I keep it from happening again?" Sand's expression suggested that the answer was perfectly obvious, but she would spell it out for her dim-witted friend anyway.

"Ye said ye wanted to hear music. It's about intention."

"Does everything down here run on wishes?" Sarah exclaimed with an exasperated growl. The look Sand gave her made Sarah feel foolish for even asking.

"Right. Be careful what you wish for. Welcome to remedial Labyrinth 101." She shook her head wryly. "Well, let's see if we can find those records. Do you suppose he had an office or something?"

"Mayhap o'er there?" Sand was pointing at a door to the left of the main entrance that Sarah was quite certain had not been there when they'd arrived. She glared suspiciously at Sand, but the other women simply shrugged and made her way to the door, which opened at her touch. Sarah followed her inside, her nose wrinkling against the air of disuse. There was a simple wooden desk and a shelf of ledger-style books, but Sarah's eye was drawn to a massive wardrobe built into the back of the room. Indulging her curiosity, she cracked open one, large door.

"Oooo! Costumes!" A riot of colours and textures tantalized her senses. Under the hanging garments there were boxes, boxes of scarves, of shoes, of masks... Sarah dropped the lid on the last one hastily. Swallowing nervously, she turned back to Sand, who by now had several of the books laid out on the desk.

"Any luck?"

"Aye, I've got the sense of it. This one," she tapped a book, "is an inventory. The rest are accounts and records of events. I think this is the last one." Sarah peered over Sand's shoulder, and then moaned in frustration.

"I can't read it, Sand. How am I supposed to do this job if I can't even read the accounts?"

"Dinna worry, Sarah. I'll help ye." Sarah pondered her friend, an idea slowly forming.

"Sand?"

"Aye?"

"Mistress of revels is an important job, right? I mean, not only does it cover entertaining the king, but it's also about putting on a good show for visitors, maintaining the kingdom's reputation, right?" Sand gave her a puzzled look.

"Aye?"

"So don't you thing the Mistress of Revels should have an assistant? You know, since it's so important...." Comprehension dawned in Sand's eyes.

"Ye dinna mean... would ye really?" Sarah grinned at Sand's sputtering disbelief.

"We'll have to make sure it's ok with Narga, but," she stuck out a hand, "welcome to the team." Sand looked at Sarah's hand in confusion, putting out her own after a moment and squeaking slightly as Sarah shook it vigorously. Snatching it back, Sand bit her lip tentatively.

"Sarah, are ye sure?"

"Sand, you have the training, you can read and write, and you found the room. Can you really doubt that the Labyrinth wants you here? Or that I do?" Sand's glowing smile was all the answer required. "So," she nodded towards the books, "what can you tell me?" Sand laughed.

"I've not yet had time to read them!"

"Well, what does the last entry say?" Sand rolled her eyes at Sarah's impatience but obediently flipped to the end and read the final entry.

"His majesty has recovered from his illness but has not recovered his spirits. He says that the ballroom still reminds him too painfully of her and has asked me to seal it. I suspect he will not have much need for my services in the coming years, and so I have set the records and properties in order. His majesty has hinted that he can help me to a new post in the high court, and I believe I shall take him up on the offer." She looked up. "That's it." Both women were silent for a long moment. It was Sarah who spoke first.

"I wonder who she was."

"No one knows. This is the first real evidence I ken that she even existed. Everyone suspected his majesty's illness was love-sickness, but no one kenned him to be courting. Though why anyone would refuse the Goblin King..." Sarah sighed, moving to the door to look out at the ballroom. She felt more sympathy for Jareth now than when she had run the Labyrinth, but she couldn't forget his cruelty and deceptive tricks. Even at the end, promising to be her slave if she love, fear, and obey him. If she'd been a year or two older, that trick might have worked.

"Perhaps she was afraid of him. I know he terrifies me." She closed her eyes, resting her head against the doorframe. "What does the record before it say?" She could hear Sand flipping the page back.

"It's for repairs. Looks like one of the large mirrors was broken."

"Hmmm... and before that?" The pause was longer this time, and if Sarah had been watching, she would have seen an odd expression settle over Sand's face as she perused the entry.

"A ball... pulled together at the last moment for an...unexpected visitor. There wasn't time for a proper invitations, so the king created a glamour of guests using some of the goblins."

"Probably not a typical event, then." Sarah sighed. Glamours and invitations and goblin kings... not things she'd had to cope with a month ago, and though admittedly better than the alternative, she still constantly felt out of her depth. She turned back to see Sand watching her with concerned eyes.

"Sarah, why don' ye go practice a while. Ye can't help me read through these records, so ye might as well do somewhat else. I'll let ye know when I have a better sense of things." Sarah smiled gratefully, the warmth of affection outweighing her uncertainty and anxiety. Thanking her friend, she followed the music out into the ballroom and shed her fears in the certainty of movement.

--------------------------------

Thank you all so much for your helping getting this chapter off the ground. It hasn't gone through as rigorous a revision as usual (exhibit a: lame chapter ending), so if you spot any errors or inconsistencies, please let me know. As always, I appreciate your reviews, and at this point they can have a significant impact on the direction of the story. Do tell me what you think!


	9. Chapter 9: A Princess and Her King

Oh dear gods... I've written a song fic. I blame the Harem, where Scott Alan's song was posted just as I was thinking through this chapter. The song is his (off the album Keys, though the music is a bit shrill for my tastes). As always, Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 9: A Princess and Her King

The months passed. A close perusal of the records allowed Sand to reassure Sarah that the things she'd experienced in her dream did not appear to be standard court revel activities, a fact both relieving and embarrassing, since it fed Sarah's suspicion that her own desires had shaped even the darker elements of the dream. What Sand did discover was that court events took a great deal of coordination and crisis management, particularly given the often arbitrary and arcane distinctions of hierarchy between and within the various kingdoms. Raiding the library and relying on the experience of the Labyrinth's more travelled denizens, Sand and Sarah set about learning the intricate social and political machinations of the Underground. Sarah had been surprised to discover that the junkyard goblins were the best source of information. "If it's been forgotten, it's here somewhere," Agnes had cackled, gesturing vaguely at her head and the pile of junk on her back. "Rumours'r just another kinda junk," another goblin had added. Sand and Sarah had shared a look, both recognizing the offhand remarks for the warnings they were – the information was outdated and unsubstantiated – but it was nonetheless a starting place for the kinds of interpersonal details that the library's dry histories and books on social policy left out.

When they weren't researching, Sarah practiced. Knowing that she had lost a great deal of strength and control during her hiatus from dancing, she set herself a strict regimen to regain it. She ate heartily, much to Narga's approval, and improved rapidly. Her spirit continued to heal as swiftly as her body, and soon her quick wit and quicker smiles made Sarah beloved among the castle staff. She often led the charge in mock battles with the goblin army, and was just as bold in visiting the Labyrinth's less pleasant denizens and locations, her old sense of curiosity leading her on adventures whenever her work allowed. Even while working in the kitchen, her mischievous spirit shone through. She would make outrageous jokes, mimicking the king with a well placed carrot and a lascivious leer that had all the staff in stitches.

But of the Goblin King himself, she saw little, only glimpses as he left a room or passed by an open door. She told herself she was glad of this, or if she wasn't it was only because she wanted to fulfil her role as mistress of revels, something Jareth seemed to have no interest in requiring of her. She felt keenly that she owed something to Sand and to the other castle inhabitants, who had accepted her without question, and the others' excitement about her new position built steadily. What had begun as shy hints had grown over the months to open queries. People were curious about the ballroom (still largely off-limits, a fact policed by the ballroom itself which refused to allow any of the goblins entry and permitted Narga only on the threat of having its doors forcibly removed), and they longed for a return of the old entertainments. Several asked innocently if the Goblin King would be singing for them again soon, a question Sarah was in no position to answer, and one which left her inexplicably irritable and heart-sore each time it was asked. It was after one such wheedling confrontation with the Wise Man and his annoying hat that Sarah had stomped around the ballroom complaining loudly about Goblin Kings and their tendency to leave people in the dark, when Sand had looked at her blandly and simply said, "Why don't you ask him?"

And so it was that nearly six months after her return to the Labyrinth, Sarah found herself hesitating nervously outside the Goblin King's study, working up the courage to knock. Predictably, he opened the door just as she raised her hand.

"Fisticuffs? Really, Sarah, if you are determined to do me violence, there are better ways."

Sarah could feel the blush crawl up to her hairline, annoyed anger in its wake. How did he always manage to unsettle her so easily? It had been so much easier when she didn't care how he felt, but she needed something from him and couldn't afford to voice the retort that danced on her tongue. Keeping her eyes glued to the pendant on his chest, which was safer than looking down, all things considered, she responded, "I have a request, your majesty."

A slender, gloved hand grasped her chin lightly, and she nearly stopped breathing. "I'm up here, Sarah. You'll have to look me in the eye if you want to ask something of me."

Meeting his gaze was a little like sticking her finger in a light socket; Sarah knew that the tremor that passed through her had nothing to do with fear, though she could not quite put a name to it. She licked her lips nervously, stealing courage from the flicker of his glance to her mouth, the widening of his pupils. At least she wasn't the only one unsettled by this encounter. She drew a shaky breath.

"Your majesty, several of the staff have expressed curiosity in my work and a desire to do something in the long evenings. With your permission, might I hold a small entertainment for them? Perhaps to celebrate the re-opening of the ballroom?"

He frowned.

"You wish to perform for the staff?" Something in her request clearly displeased him, but Sarah couldn't be certain what, exactly. She had to tread carefully.

"Your majesty, for anyone in the castle who might wish to be so entertained." This seemed to help a little. "I had hoped that it would contribute to the general peace and well-being, if people had something to look forward to other than the next brawl."

"Are you suggesting that my castle is disorderly?"

"No, your majesty, only that I would do my part in helping to maintain order."

"You should conserve your energy for court functions." 'What court functions' she was tempted to retort. She suddenly suspected that he was reaching for excuses.

"I beg your pardon, your majesty, but it would help me to practice in front of an audience before I am called to represent our kingdom in a more formal context."

His gaze flickered at her use of 'our' and Sarah knew she had scored a point. He eyed her suspiciously, but she kept her expression blankly earnest. With a sigh, he waved her off.

"I will consider it." Sarah couldn't resist pushing the issue a bit further.

"When might I know your answer, your majesty?" The mercurial king rounded on her in an instant.

"When I decide to tell you, woman. Don't try me!" The thrill of fear urged her to do just that, but she reigned it back, keeping her thoughts fixed on the larger goal. Her blood singing with adrenalin, she quickly apologized and excused herself before she could make more trouble.

~*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*~

He agreed, of course. One of the grooms had confided to Sarah that more than one outrider on diplomatic business had fished for information about the new mistress of revels, and the little goblin that kept track of the King's correspondence reported that several recent letters included veiled queries as to the possibility of a ball in the near future. Sarah suspected that Jareth might have been tempted to let her flounder and make a fool of herself in her first attempt to organize an inter-kingdom fete, save that any failure on her part would reflect poorly on him. For his part, the Goblin King was curious as to how she might perform differently when she knew someone was watching, though he did not admit as much to her. He did, however, stipulate that the event would not be held in the ballroom. "I will not have riff raff warping the floors." Sarah had ground her teeth, remembering Hoggle's prediction, but had restricted herself to asking how she would be able to invoke the necessary music in a different space. Jareth had merely smirked at her. "Really, Sarah, you're the Mistress of Revels. You can't expect me to solve these problems for you. Of course, if you feel you're not up to the task..." She had glared at him, informing him brusquely that she would handle it.

As it turned out, Sarah needn't have worried. She had stormed around in a foul mood for two days before it had occurred to her to simply try calling music in another room. Either the Labyrinth was feeling generous or Sand had been right in predicting that Sarah's magic would continue to grow, though a slight light-headedness when she let the music fade suggested the latter. Sand had reacted to Sarah's discovery with wide-eyed bemusement, and both women agreed to set the event a month later to give Sarah time to practice dancing while maintaining the necessary magic. Much as she had in retraining her body, Sarah made progress quickly and by the month's end she had begun to grow comfortable with using this strange new sense of strength, though it still left her a little weary after maintaining the music for a single dance. The magic seemed to arise from somewhere inside her chest and behind her eyes, and yet from neither of these places. More than once she wondered what it felt like to be the Goblin King, so imbued with magic that he could produce crystals at will and could transform and transport himself with a thought. She had always known he was powerful; now she understood just how powerful. In retrospect, she marvelled at her own past boldness and felt a shudder of terror when she thought of how easily he might have destroyed her every time she had pushed him. And yet he hadn't. The realization made him both more terrifying and more enticing; she feared him, but she could not keep herself from pondering his motives and perspective. She reminded herself firmly that fire, too, was beautiful, equally seductive, equally dangerous. She was not going to make a fool of herself by falling for someone who would never love her back, particularly someone so... infuriating.

They held the event in the dining hall, the only space big enough to accommodate everyone who wanted to attend, and even so Sarah had to ask Narga to enforce a strict castle staff only policy, with specific exceptions for Ludo, Hoggle, and Didymus. Jareth, who had pretended disinterest, nonetheless took up slouching residence in the temporary throne Sarah had arranged to have placed on the dais, just in case. Goblins swarmed around his feet, clearly ecstatic that their king was once again getting into the spirit of things. Sarah couldn't help the indulgent smile that graced her lips at the picture. Even through his pretence of apathy, she could tell Jareth was enjoying his subjects' enthusiasm. Taking a deep breath, she summoned her magic and began the show with a flash and sparkle of light that drew everyone's eyes, including those of a certain Goblin King. She smirked, suspecting that he had not known how strong her magic had grown either.

They began with a juggling act by the fierys. It had been Sand's suggestion that they start with something light-hearted, but Sarah had been the one to suspect the fierys particular skills, and the furry, red creatures had been eager to participate. Thankfully Sarah did not have to use the buckets of ice water that she'd arranged to have on hand, though she suspected they served their purpose just by being there. The fierys had looked particularly nervous when she'd explained what would happen if they set anything alight, and she was amused to learn the limits of their 'chilly down' attitude. The act set several of the goblins bouncing and giggling, and the audience was all smiles and laughter by the end of it. After the fierys had collected themselves and cleared the floor, Sarah pulled the lights down, focusing a soft glow for Sand to step into. The audience hushed in anticipation.

Sand began the second act with an a cappella performance of a traditional Gaelic song. She had told Sarah that the lyrics spoke of a return home after a long journey, and certainly the tune was triumphant and joyful, laced with wonder and nostalgia. Sand's honey-sweet voice gathered the audience in its warm tones, held them in rapt attention as it bound them to the swell of music. The energy poured off them in waves, and Sarah knew that, if only for this moment, the evening was a success. While Sand sang, every being in the room existed in glorious harmony.

The crowd held its breath as the final note faded to silence, and then a thunder of applause roared out. Sand shared a face-splitting grin with Sarah before the latter, wide-eyed gestured with a jerk of her chin to where Jareth was standing in front of his throne. When Sand met his eye, he gave her a formal bow and a pleased nod before resuming his seat. Sand looked momentarily in danger of fainting, but she recovered herself, curtseying low, her face glowing in response to the King's approval. Sarah was overcome with joy at seeing her friend finally achieve her dream. She grinned and nodded when Sand caught her eye, encouraging the other woman to continue.

"Thank ye, Majesty, everyone; ye are too kind. I would play ye a second piece if ye will?" At his nod and the audience's cheers, she continued. "Majesty, in honour of yer kindness, and ta celebrate our new mistress of revels, I have sought out a tune for th'occasion, one what speaks ta the dreams that are born in dancing." With that introduction, she seated herself at a large harp and began a sweet trill of music, weaving her honeyed voice in moments later.

So it was 3:15 in the morning  
And we were dancing  
Yes, we were dancing.  
And the world around us was frozen  
And we kept on dancing  
It felt good to be dancing.

And we danced until morning  
I, his princess, and he was my king  
And the music was our serenade  
And we danced to the silence of the night  
How I loved to be by his side  
So we kept dancing.

Sarah's eyes went wide as she stared at Sand. What had she been thinking, choosing a song with those lyrics? What would he think it meant? Only the effort of controlling the lighting kept Sarah from reacting on instinct, though she had no clue what she could do to stop the catastrophe she was certain was about to unfold. Surely he would be furious? She debated taking the lights down entirely as she glanced at Jareth only to discover that he was watching her where she stood in the shadows. He didn't look angry, just... puzzled. Sarah swallowed hard and looked back at Sand.

He wasn't one to hold me  
He didn't care for kisses  
Or telling me he loved me.  
Yet here he was dancing  
And I was dancing, for a moment he held me  
And we danced until morning  
And it felt like we'd been there before  
And the lights built round the sun  
And the music was sweet as the night  
As the moon traded with the sun  
We stayed dancing

Sarah's breath shuddered and her eyes stung. She was sure Sand had only meant to honour her, had only chosen the song because it spoke of dancing, but every note pierced her heart. It was too close to what she had hoped, had dreamed might have happened, instead of what had. She clamped her elbow hard against ribs that still remembered the weight of his hand.

Stronger and deeper the music grew  
Until we knew, in a moment the dance  
Would end with the sun  
But the music was our serenade  
And I held on to what could have been  
We could have danced til the last morning came

She closed her eyes, trying to hide from the memory of a haunted gaze flooded with disappointed pain. She had not held on. She hadn't been able to. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

But, the song was over.  
The dance had ended.  
And the night was morning.  
And he said he loved me.  
Well, he didn't say it, but he didn't have to  
The dance, between a princess and her king

Sarah willed herself not to weep, willed herself to smile, willed herself to bring up the lights and thank her friend amidst the crowd's enthusiastic response. The smile felt brittle on her face, but she forced herself to breathe deeply and take her position for the final act, her own dance. She had chosen a modern dance piece set to a movement from Beethoven's fourth symphony, a dance one of her instructors had designed for her that spoke of playful confidence. It was a good thing that it had been one of the first that she had learned, because she was barely aware of dancing it, so lost was she in the pain that Sand's song had awoken. And when the dance was over, all she could focus on amidst the roaring applause was the distinct absence of Goblin King on the empty throne.

"Are ye alright?" Sand asked quietly while they waited for the crowd to disperse after they had taken their bows.

"He didn't stay." She was not going to cry, she told herself firmly.

"He didna leave till the end." Sarah's head shot up.

"He didn't? How did he look? Was he happy?" Sand hesitated, unwilling to tell Sarah of the tortured expression that the Goblin King had struggled to contain until the moment he had faded from view. Sarah assumed the worst, her features equally distraught, and Sand hastened to reassure her.

"He wasna angry, Sarah."

"Well, that's something, isn't it?"

"Aye." The arrival of Sarah's other friends interrupted them, and Sand smiled fondly, watching Sarah greet them. "It's something."

--------------------------------

I may (just may, mind), take a break from this story next week, but if I do so, I'll give you a little one shot that I dashed off for the Harem. What's is this Harem corrupting our gentle authoress, you ask? Check out the link on FairiesMidwife's page (and check out her stories while you're at it – she rocks!).

If you're wondering why songfic is a bad thing, see page 10 of Dr. Merlin's Guide to Fanfiction, or just be honest with yourself about how quickly you skimmed over those lyrics to get back to the 'real' story.

Oh, and "riff raff warping the floors" ... I just had to. Does anyone else get that?

And now, please let me know what you think. Tell me you forgive me for the songfic. Tell me you love me for giving you Jareth. Tell me what you ate for supper. Just talk to me!


	10. Chapter 10: Let's Dance

Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 10: Let's Dance

He was waiting for her in the ballroom the next day.

"Sloppy."

"What?"

"You. Your dancing is sloppy."

"What?!"

"There's no other word for it. It might pass for entertaining ignorant goblins, but you're going to have to do better than that to represent this kingdom, Sarah."

Sarah struggled to keep a tight rein on her temper. She had barely slept the night before, despite being exhausted by the combined physical and magical effort of her performance, and the last thing she needed was a confrontation in the heart of her personal sanctuary. Sand's song had forced Sarah to acknowledge how much she had wanted her peach-induced dream to be true, for the Goblin King to be in love with her, for the pain in his eyes to be for her, not some woman he'd known years before she'd arrived. Jareth's departure before the end of her performance had hurt more than she cared to admit. More than once through the long night she'd wondered if it was some form of revenge. She'd once left him in the middle of a dance, after all. But nothing he'd done since her return had suggested he felt anything other than disdain for her, certainly not that he cared enough to enact revenge. She had come to the conclusion that he had left because he was bored, or worse. She chided herself repeatedly for confusing fantasy and reality, but it eased neither the ache nor the fear that trailed in the wake of her thoughts of the Goblin King.

Having spent much of the night running a mental treadmill of self-pity and anxiety, she had then faced an emotionally demanding morning fielding enthusiastic compliments with false cheer during her shift in the kitchen. Everyone had loved the evening, wanted to know when the next one would be, wanted to know when the King might perform for them, and it had taken every ounce of control not to scream or burst into tears. She'd desperately needed to retreat; to then be confronted with an arrogant, scathing dismissal of her efforts from the very man who had been tormenting her thoughts.... On second thought, Sarah realized she wasn't keeping a rein on her temper at all. She could feel her nails biting into her palms and her limbs tremble. She forced herself to take a deep breath and relax, promising herself she would deal with her anger later. If he hadn't liked the performance, she was going to find out why. It was the only way she'd be able to do improve. She was going to be an adult, a _professional_, not a little girl lamenting fruitless daydreams.

"Perhaps if your majesty could be more specific? It's very difficult for me to see myself while I'm dancing. That is why I wanted an audience to practice in front of, after all."

Jareth was surprised. He was baiting her intentionally – the snarling anger in her eyes made his blood race, and he could hear her repressed annoyance in her clipped and careful speech – but both her determination to resist that anger and her request for specifics caught him off guard. He hadn't really thought beyond the excuse for a confrontation that had been plaguing his thoughts throughout the restless night. Her reaction to the song the previous evening had initially puzzled him: while she had clearly not known about the song in advance, Sarah had just as clearly feared his reaction to it. Watching her dance, he had realized that she believed he would see the song as encouragement, that he would assume she had chosen it as a message for him, a message that she would welcome the renewal of his affections. Her distress, then, indicated the opposite; she could not have proclaimed her rejection more clearly if she had repeated that hateful phrase again. He had retreated to his rooms to nurse his newly re-fractured heart, to rage again against her cruelty. By morning, he was determined to prove to her that she meant nothing to him. He had expected she would take the bait, rail at him so that he could punish her, perhaps strip her of her post or leave her in an oubliette for a week, anything to make her hurt as much as he did. He wasn't prepared for her to refuse to play the game.

Thinking quickly, he summoned a crystal and threw it into the open space before them. It spun mid-air, growing till it depicted a life size replica of Sarah dancing as she had the previous evening. Moments into the dance, he froze the image.

"See? There. What is that _thing _you're doing with your hands?" The image resumed, froze. "There. Your leg should be straight, not hang like snot from a goblin's nose."

Her breath hissing in annoyance, Sarah resolutely quashed her flaring anger. He was trying to goad her, but he was also _right_. A hundred little details stood out, now that she could see it from a distance. She forced herself to listen carefully to Jareth's critique, striving to see the dance and not herself in it. While his snide comparisons stung, they were balanced by the realization that he had been watching, and closely, given the detail of his critique. Inwardly, she berated her racing pulse. '_Professional_, Sarah. Don't be an idiot.'

"What did you say?!" Sarah's eyes widened as she realized that she'd muttered the last part of her self recrimination under her breath. Her heart seized at the cold fury that lurked behind incredulity in the Goblin King's eyes. She backtracked hastily.

"Not you, majesty. Me. I mean–" Sarah stopped herself before she revealed the real reason for her comment, furious at the way her fear had loosened her tongue. Closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, Sarah forced herself to take a calming breath. Tension ached along her jaw and between her shoulder blades, and a headache throbbed behind her eyes, but she focused on the air in her lungs, striving to regain equilibrium before opening her eyes again. Jareth stood with his arms crossed, his gaze cold and expectant, his belligerent attitude drawing a frustrated sigh from Sarah's lips.

"I apologize, your majesty. My comment was directed at myself. I am frustrated that I did not meet your expectations." Her words appeared to surprise him. With a blink of his eyes and a curious tilt of his head, his entire demeanour shifted, loosened, the anger slipping away so fast Sarah felt her head spin. He seemed to see her fully for the first time since she entered the room.

"You look tired."

"Yes, majesty."

"Did you not sleep?"

"No, majesty." He frowned at her intentionally closed-mouthed responses.

"Why not?" Sarah wanted to laugh, only she feared it might come out as a sob. For the briefest instant, she entertained telling him the truth, amused by the thought that it would at least get him to leave her in peace. Well, she'd already confessed her sense of inadequacy; adding to that confession couldn't hurt. She dropped her gaze to the floor as she spoke, anxious that he not see the full truth in her eyes.

"I feared your majesty was displeased with the event." Gazing at the floor, she missed the flash of surprise that skittered over his face. He began to pace a leisurely circle around her, studying the puzzle she presented to him.

"What gave you the impression I was displeased?" She gave him an exasperated glare over her shoulder.

"You just made it abundantly clear, in minute detail." He waved a dismissive hand.

"That does not explain why you reached that conclusion last night." Her eyes shuttered an instant before she glanced away.

"You left before the end, majesty." He examined her thoughtfully through narrowed eyes, aware that there was something she was not telling him. He would not condone being lied to, even by omission.

"Really, Sarah, you think too much of yourself. You should be honoured that I graced your little soiree for as long as I did." Sarah's spin stiffened and she whirled to face him. Her tone dripped acid.

"Of course, your majesty. How foolish of me. And then to be so _generous_ with your time this afternoon. I'm sure you have more important things to attend to. _Please _don't let me keep you." Jareth smirked, raising an eyebrow at her tone. Feigning nonchalance, he ignored her veiled dismissal, and asked in a bored tone,

"You will hold another of these events?" He barely kept from laughing as Sarah visibly struggled to keep up with his shifting tactics.

"If your majesty wishes it." She shifted uncomfortably under his cold, unreadable stare. The silence built into a solid substance as he pinned her with that gaze. She only realized she was holding her breath when the air started to sparkle with imminent unconsciousness. Her ragged intake of breath broke the impasse.

"The first dance you performed in this room. I would see it."

"Now?!" Irritation flickered along his brow.

"Yes, now." Sarah struggled again to find her equilibrium. She was tired, confused, and in no shape to keep up with his arbitrary, mercurial moods, But what choice did she have? An insidious little voice whispered that at least it was better than being ignored. With a curt nod, she took her position and forced herself to focus, calling the music forth as she unfurled her body. As she danced, she tried to incorporate Jareth's critique. Hand straight, there, full extension... She was concentrating so hard that when she felt hands seize her waist at the start of a leap, she screamed and stumbled, only his warm hold on her hips keeping her upright. As soon as she had regained her balance she twisted out of his grip, all of the anger she'd repressed finally boiling out of her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He looked at her mildly, his expression just on this side of smug.

"I would think that would be obvious, Sarah. It was you, after all, who insisted that what people did in a ballroom was dance."

"No. It is not obvious." Each word was clipped with fury. She'd had enough of his random behaviour today. He sighed, his expression making it clear that he felt she was being deliberately obtuse.

"I am well aware, Sarah, that my subjects hope I will grace them with a performance of my own, and if you plan to continue these fetes, they will expect me to participate. As I do not particularly feel like singing, I have chosen instead to dance, and, rather generously, I might add, to dance with you. Your technique needs work, but you are not as unskilled as others I have worked with in the past. Although, they did," he smirked, "have less trouble jumping than you seem to. Still, I had thought it would be easiest for you if we simply adapted one of your existing pieces." His expression told her plainly that he thought she was being irrational.

Sarah was flabbergasted. He could have warned her! And dance with her? Why couldn't he do his own thing? Minutes ago, he acted like her performance was nearly unsalvageable, and now she was good enough to dance with? Not unskilled? The arrogance! And who had he been dancing with before, anyway? The sudden stab of jealousy made her acutely aware of the shivers that his hands on her waist had sent through her. There was no way she'd be able to make it through a whole dance with him... touching her... moving with her.

"It's a solo piece. It can't be adapted." She hoped he didn't hear the slight breathiness in her tone.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, then, show me a dance that you feel can be adapted." He folded his arms and looked at her expectantly.

Sarah felt herself go pale and found she couldn't meet his eyes. She mumbled a response.

"Speak up Sarah. I haven't got all day." She grimaced.

"I said I don't have any. I... I've never danced with a partner before." She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

"Surely you've done some such dancing?" She shook her head in the negative. "Ballroom dancing at least?" She shook again, sneaking a glance at his face. He was appalled. For some reason, this annoyed her more than the derision she'd expected.

"What?"

"Sarah, you are mistress of revels. How do expect to coordinate a formal ball if you don't know how to dance?"

"I can dance."

"You can _perform_; that is not all there is to dancing." Sarah blinked at the conviction with which he attested her ability, but refused to let the implications distract her.

"I don't see why it matters."

"It is your responsibility to ensure the guests are enjoying themselves, Sarah, which includes dancing with any young men who may not find partners for the evening." Sarah sputtered.

"I'm supposed to, what, to pass myself around the room like some free escort service?"

"It is expected, Sarah. You need not make it sound like something unsavoury."

"And you expect me to believe the last master of revels danced with any unattached women."

"Of course." Sarah rocked back on her heels, surprised.

"Oh." They regarded each other for a long moment, Sarah not at all amused by the Goblin King's annoyed contemplation of her. His next words fuelled her unease.

"I suppose there is no hope for it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Sarah, darling," he ground out in annoyance, "that I am going to have to teach you how to dance."

Sarah gaped at him in shock, but he didn't give her time to object. With barely concealed impatience, he demonstrated a series of intricate steps to her, glaring at her until she followed suit. Once she had the basic form down, he stepped close, wrapping one hand around her waist while the other cradled her palm. Her chest tightened at his proximity; her shallow breaths thick with his scent, spicy maleness and magic. She resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty palm on her dress, grateful for the gloves he wore that, she hoped, hid her nervousness. Annoyance and desire competed to disrupt her focus as Jareth walked her through the dance at half speed, and she kept stumbling, pulling back and resisting the turns he attempted to lead her through.

"Stop fighting me," he snapped. "You must trust your partner for this dance to work." She muttered something snidely under her breath. "What was that?" Her eyes snapped fire at him.

"I said it would be easier if I had a had a partner I could trust, your majesty." Her sneering tone lashed out with all the barely controlled anger he could feel trembling under her skin. He glared back at her, struggling not to lose himself in those dark, green pools.

"Tough luck, princess," he snarled, assigning the honorific with the same disdain she'd given his. "You'll just have to learn to make do." Angrily he summoned music and prepared to manhandle her through the steps at speed. Her expression stopped him. She'd gone white, her face a distressed mask, before she tore herself from his hands and put the dance floor between them, her back a rigid recrimination.

"Must you taint everything?" Her accusation contained the hint of a sob. Jareth was at a loss. As much as she infuriated him, he had revelled in her closeness. They had been back in territory he understood, but suddenly the rules had changed. Again.

"What...?"

"Choose different music," she snarled. Yes, there were definitely tears on her face. And then it struck him. He had unconsciously chosen the music from her dream dance during her run, the music to which he had sung his love to her. He hastily silenced it, the empty air aching with its loss. An unfamiliar regret tugged at his chest.

"I..." What could he say? That he hadn't thought? That he had unconsciously chosen the music because it reminded him of her? The first answer would only dismiss her reaction, which he found himself strangely reluctant to do, while the latter... revealed too much. What did she think he was tainting? Surely not the present moment. She'd been furious with him from the instant he'd opened his mouth.

She must, then, have been referring to the dream dance. A memory tugged, and he realized that she had called forth the same tune the first time she'd awoken the ballroom's magic. Jareth's breath caught against the swell of hope and longing that blossomed with the realization that she thought of that dance fondly, that it meant something to her, something she didn't want spoiled. If that was so, perhaps he had misread her anxiety the previous evening. Perhaps she feared not that he would read too much into Sandrelia's song, but that it would reveal too much to him.

He sighed. Regardless, he still had to deal with the consequences. Quietly he freed a handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to her.

"It's one of my favourite pieces. I had not realized it would affect you so." There. Let her process that. To his surprise, she had already calmed significantly, although she accepted the handkerchief for the peace offering it was, drying her eyes gently before returning it.

"No, I apologize. I'm just overtired. I'm not usually so fractious." Inwardly, Sarah was appalled that she'd let the Goblin King push her so far off balance. As infuriating as he could be, he was actually teaching her things she wanted to know. He was probably the only person in the kingdom who could teach her, and here she was acting like a diva. She blushed when she caught sight of his smirk and raised eyebrow.

"Really? I should say that's an apt description of our previous encounters." Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes, not missing the mild surprise on the Goblin King's face.

"We've barely spoken four times in the last six months Not exactly a sufficient basis for comparison." She shook her head, her lips quirking wryly. "And I suppose you've always managed to bring the worst out in me." He gazed on her in admiration. Still she managed to fascinate him, an unsolvable, ever-shifting puzzle.

"The same might be said of your effect on me," he confessed. "Perhaps," he added thoughtfully, "we might rectify the situation."

Sarah's eyes widened as she realized that his statement was, in a way, a measure of apology. Blinking rapidly, she grappled with the shifting perspective implied by his offer. If she were being honest, she would have to admit she was still nursing her image of him as a villain. Her experiences of the Labyrinth as a well-run kingdom and the general high regard in which Jareth was held had laid siege to her prejudice, but she had clung to it because it was ... easier. Familiar. It gave her something to define herself against, a thing, not a person and that ... wasn't fair. Guiltily, she realized that the infatuation she'd been forced to acknowledge was the flip side of the same imagined character. Yes, he was painfully handsome, and yes, his nearness made her blood race, but really, she knew nothing about him, and she was old enough to resist the impulses of her hormones. Sighing, she wondered idly how many times she'd have to learn to stop taking things for granted before she finally got it right.

"I'd like that, your majesty."

"Well then, princess," and this time the appellation was playful, "shall we dance?"

She smiled, curtseyed, and held out her hand as new and unfamiliar music began to play.

--------------------------------

My apologies, dear readers, for the long hiatus. If you like the chapter, thank AmericanWoman – without her tug on my proverbial sleeve, I wouldn't have gotten back to this so soon (I'm still up to my eyeballs in research for a work project, so updates will continue to be slow). If you don't like it, blame me, and please, please, please tell me what's not working for you. I feel I've lost my way a bit with these two, not least because I can't figure out how to see inside both characters' heads at the same time.


	11. Chapter 11: Oh You Pretty Thing

Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 11: Oh You Pretty Thing

Sarah fidgeted with her skirt nervously. At the end of the Jareth's impromptu dance lesson, he had informed her that they would continue her training as his schedule permitted. She had spent several days in a state of constant anxiety, expecting his appearance at any moment, but eventually reason prevailed. Obviously 'as his schedule permitted' wasn't going to be a daily occurrence, and she couldn't spend every day distracted by his present absence. She forced herself to relax and focus on perfecting her own choreography. She also, rather brilliantly, she thought, hit on the plan of teaching Sand the dances Jareth would teach her. "If the mistress of revels has to be able to dance at a ball, then so does her assistant. Besides, what if there are two guests who need partners?" Sand had been mortified but had caved to Sarah's cajoling in the end.

The arrival of a goblin during her kitchen shift with a message that the Goblin King would be joining her in the afternoon had been an unexpected politeness, but it had also brought those nerves back with a vengeance, a situation not helped by the giggled whispers and sideline envious glances of the other kitchen staff. Ever perceptive, Narga had sent her off early, ostensibly to get herself cleaned up, but in reality to give her time to calm down. Unfortunately, as a result, she'd arrived early to the ballroom and had promptly set about working those nerves up yet again as she stood waiting near the door for Jareth's arrival. Impatiently she smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her tunic, huffing in frustration.

"This is stupid." Abruptly annoyed at herself, she stalked towards the dance floor. She figured she might as well warm up, do something with her nervous energy.

"What is stupid, princess?"

Sarah spun with a gasp to face the king who had shimmered into view. Framed by the huge oaken doors, he was a paradox of liquid stillness. Sarah clicked her jaw shut harshly, swallowing around the stunned amazement that stole her breath. She had mostly gotten used Jareth's penchant for tight pants and chest-revealing shirts, his standard 'casual' wear, but the outfit he wore now was new. Tight black pants, of course, but with a slight flare below the knee in fabric that rippled even when he stood still. He wore a surprisingly modern, button up shirt, his pale skin gleaming from under the carmine fabric where it gaped, unbuttoned at his throat. The outfit was topped with a knee-length, flowing jacket, slit at the sides and made of the same airy substance as the pants, but stiffened with blood red embroidery. Sarah's brain struggled to grapple with the style, seeing it as a strange fusion of Middle Eastern and Latin American fashions, before shutting down entirely in stunned awe. Belatedly, Sarah remembered that this was the Goblin King she was ogling, and she forced her eyes to his face, only to discover that he was also examining her. From his frown, she rather guessed his perspective was less rewarding. She suddenly wondered if she might have enough magic in her to turn invisible.

"Surely I provided you with better clothing than that? Isn't that the same _thing_ you wore last week?" Sarah glanced down at her clothes. A plain, serviceable tunic and skirt. Grey. There was nothing wrong with it. Ok, so it was a little drab, but it wasn't dirty or ragged. She'd even changed from the matching brown set she'd worn this morning – which was, she recalled in annoyance, what she'd worn the last time he'd invaded her domain, so it was not, in fact, the same thing she'd worn last time. As if that should matter. She folded her arms stubbornly and glared at his feet.

"Not all of us have walk-in closets, your majesty." His light laughter would have been charming if she were not angry at him. Sarah tried not to groan as he _flowed_ down the steps towards her. Stopping in front of her, he took her jutting chin lightly between gloved fingers and tilted her head back, forcing her to meet his warm, laughing gaze.

"My dear Sarah, are you accusing me of sartorial excess?"

She blinked at him in confusion, mouthing the unfamiliar word.

"Clothing, princess."

Sarah rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, ok, I'd say you're pretty satyrially well-endowed."

His laugh was deep and throaty, and Sarah's breath caught at the sight of delicate blue veins under pale skin as he threw his head back. His eyes shone with amusement when they met hers again.

"Sartorial, princess."

"Whatever."

"Trust me, Sarah, there is a difference." His smirk told her that she didn't want to know.

"Fine. Yes, you have a lot of clothes. Happy?"

"Sarah, my dear, what do you suppose one gets a king?"

Sarah blinked again in confusion, startled by the sudden shift in conversation. She was starting to wonder if fighting with him wouldn't be a better option. That, at least, would be easier to follow.

"What? What do you mean?"

"If you had to provide a gift to a king, perhaps to celebrate a birthday, or in gratitude for a kindness, or to curry favour, what would you give him?"

Sarah opened her mouth to retort, and then shut it again, realizing that she didn't have an answer. What did one get a king? A king didn't need money, or labour, or common items. He probably had more treasure than he knew what to do with. He didn't need property, and the one thing he probably would want, peace of mind, couldn't be given. So that left art and...

"Clothes," she admitted flatly.

"Exactly. And trust me, princess, people notice if you don't wear the clothes they gave you."

Sarah blushed.

"Ok, ok, fine. I'm sorry I didn't think to wear one of those dresses. It's just that Narga said they were for court days, and I've gotten into the habit of saving them for special occasions. I... I really like them," she confessed, "and I don't want to wear them out."

Jareth looked mildly surprised

"I had been speaking of myself, my dear. Although it pleases me that you are taking care of the garments I provided you, you should also be dressing to suit your station. It is my error. If I had a queen, she would have rewarded both Sandrelia and yourself with garments from her wardrobe. Mine is less suited for female... unless...." His eyes lit up and he swiftly stripped off the jacket. "Take off that tunic."

"What?! No!"

Jareth smirked at her.

"Such modesty. You may go into the revels office to change if you wish. Get rid of that tunic and put this on. Then come back to me." Sarah goggled at him a moment longer, but he was clearly serious, and just as clearly willing to brook no argument. Grumbling, Sarah seized the jacket and stomped into the revels office. Shucking off the tunic, she slid the sinfully soft fabric over her shoulders, her eyes fluttering closed as Jareth's scent enveloped her. It was pure, perfect torture.

"Sarah?"

Sarah swallowed hard, struggling to gain control of her senses. Wrapping the jacket tight around her body, she edged out of the room uncomfortably. Jareth gestured impatiently, a long red sash trailing from his hand and she went to him reluctantly. Ignoring her discomfort, he batted her hands out of the way, swiftly binding the sash around her waist, tugging the fabric to make it sit just so before he tied the sash off behind her back. Smiling at his handiwork he turned her round to face one of the ballroom's many mirrors. Sarah gasped at the image of them standing together, a perfect, matched set. The jacket now looked like it had always been intended as a dress, red trimmed petals fluttering against the gray skirt underneath. She watched the mirror, mesmerized, as Jareth leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"Go to the seamstresses when we are done here today. Have them fix the sash and make any necessary alterations."

She glanced at him and then looked down shyly.

"Thank you. It's beautiful."

"As are you, princess."

Sarah frowned.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Princess?" She nodded. "Because that's what you are."

"How do you figure?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Did your father not own his own land? Was he not sovereign of his own domain? Did he not provide you with anything you desired?"

Sarah shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, he owned our house. But lots of people do that. He wasn't a king."

"Did he owe allegiance to a sovereign?"

Sarah leapt on the opening. "To the flag. We pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands...," she trailed off, realizing she'd fallen into recitation.

"A flag is not a king, precious. You come from a land of a thousand petty kings and queens. Not every person in your land is so blessed, but those who have wealth and property also have a measure of sovereignty. Which means you are, or were at least born, a princess."

"Oh." She frowned in thought. "But I don't have any land now."

"Your attitude is the same, nonetheless. You were raised a princess, and you still behave as one, even when scouring dishes."

Her eyes widened and her tone was wounded. "You're saying I'm spoiled."

Jareth smiled at her softly. "Must you always assume the worst? No Sarah. While you were once very spoiled indeed, I was referring more to your strength and grace in times of distress, your attention to the well-being of others, and your generally quick and engaging wit. As much as you frequently infuriate me, I appreciate your openness and confidence. Even Sandrelia, nobly-raised as she is, fears to speak directly to me."

Sarah was speechless. Her conscience kicked her sharply, urging her to say something, even a thank-you for the compliment, but she couldn't get her mouth to work. The uncomfortable silence stretched taut, and then snapped abruptly as Jareth waved a dismissive hand.

"Come, we waste time. I will teach you two new dances today."

Sarah quickly filed away her discomfort, her nerves and bewilderment both melting away as she shifted into a familiar student mode. Without their previous animosity, the lesson went quickly, and soon they were dancing in earnest, Jareth leading her seamlessly through the different dances he had taught her. The soft music was broken only by an occasional murmured correction as he reminded her to hold her frame just so or note the difference between a single or double turn. Sarah frowned in concentration as she struggled to imprint the footwork; Jareth, she knew, was an excellent dancer, but she would need to know the dances well enough to partner someone who might not be. When he spoke again, in conversation and not correction, she barely registered that he had spoken.

"I'm sorry. What?"

He smirked lightly. "I said that it is standard to converse with one's partner when dancing. Otherwise he might think your mind is elsewhere."

Sarah blushed at the gentle rebuke, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Ok, um, how did you come to be king of the goblins?" Jareth stiffened slightly, but didn't miss a step, and Sarah resisted the urge to beat her head against his rather inviting chest. Hoggle had told her months ago that the Labyrinth was the place of lost things, which made it highly likely that Jareth's story was not a happy one. "I'm sorry. Forget I asked." He swung her through a turn, frowning slightly before responding.

"It is no secret." He fell silent again as he led her through the steps, and Sarah thought he had decided not to answer when he began again.

"Just after my eightieth birthday my brother went missing."

Sarah racked her brain for the information she and Sand had gathered.

"Damian?"

Jareth's surprised glance pleased her unduly.

"No, nor my twin." Sarah's eyes widened. She hadn't heard about a twin, nor any brother other than Damian. "Justin was my elder brother by nearly a hundred years, and I... cared for him deeply. He had promised to take me hunting. When he didn't appear, I knew something was wrong, but no one would believe me. It took three years before anyone thought to look for him, and ten before they simply decided he didn't wish to be found. So I went looking on my own." Jareth continued to lead her smoothly through the intricate steps without pause, but his jaw was tight and his eyes flinty as he dwelt on events long past. Sarah licked her lips and asked gently,

"Did you find him?" For a moment his eyes met hers, and she could see a young boy's pain echoed in their depths.

"Yes. What was left of him. He was... he had been tortured, and then left chained in irons to die. It must have taken a long time." Jareth's grip on her shoulder and hand tightened painfully, but Sarah did not object. "He was probably still alive when I set out. If I had left sooner, if the trail had not been so cold..."

"How long were you... did it take you to find him?" Jareth seemed to see her again. His grip relaxed and he assumed an unaffected expression, as though she had simply asked about the weather. It was more disturbing than the pain she had just glimpsed.

"Forty-six years. By the time I had found him, I knew I couldn't go home. If they had listened, if they had truly looked, my brother would still be alive. I had no taste for their false affections and affectations. So I wandered aimlessly for another couple of decades before I stumbled upon the Labyrinth. It needed a ruler; I needed a home. We came to an agreement." He shrugged guilelessly. Sarah suspected there was more to the story of his meeting with the Labyrinth than he let on, but she didn't feel up to asking any more ill-advised questions.

"I'm sorry. It's... well, it's not fair."

"No, it was not," he agreed, "but that's the way it is." Sarah remembered vividly when she had first learned that lesson, and the look in his eyes said that he had echoed the words of her teen-aged epiphany intentionally.

"You always were a good teacher," she murmured. "Not gentle, but then I _was_ pretty spoiled."

It was his turn to stare at her dumbfounded, and he brought them to a standstill, puzzlement written clearly across his face. Sarah nervously stepped out of his grasp, the thundering of her heart threatening to drown out the music that continued to play. She was acutely aware of the stiff embroidery on the jacket-turned-dress as her hands fluttered helplessly along the fabric. Desperate to interrupt his intense contemplation, she seized randomly on a detail of his story.

"Why did they wait three years? I mean, a week, maybe, sure. But three years seems like a long time to not know where someone is."

Jareth blinked, the tension broken, and forced a slight smile.

"My people are long lived, Sarah. It's not entirely unusual for someone to disappear for decades at a time, or to spend a score of years in contemplation of a single event." He smirked. "I have always been seen as a bit precipitous, some might even say rash. Why I have even been known to act upon whim!"

Sarah couldn't help herself. She giggled. His smile broadening at the delightful sound, Jareth took her hand and bowed gracefully over it.

"A most enjoyable lesson, Miss Williams. Next time, please do remember to dress according to the situation. Not all of my outfits can be so easily adapted." The laughter in his eyes softened the command, and Sarah returned a mischievous grin with her curtsey. They both knew what she was thinking: that the quickest way to gain herself a new outfit would be to show up wearing something entirely unsuitable. Jareth smirked wickedly at her, his gentlemanly charm modulating into something more sinister. "If you defy me, Princess," he purred, "I shall have to presume you entertain a perverse desire to see me take my clothes off. A surprising contradiction to your show of modesty earlier."

Sarah's eyes widened in shock, and she was quite certain her face matched the embroidery on her outfit. "I will be certain to wear something appropriate, your Majesty," she stammered.

He chuckled as he faded from view, but Sarah still caught his parting words distinctly. "Such a pity."

~*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*~

That evening, after a trip to the seamstress and a giddy supper with Sand, the two women tumbled giggling into her room to discover a large pile of folded clothing and a note sitting on the table. Sarah handed the note to Sand and started looking through the clothes curiously. Mostly robes, vests, and tunics, they were all made of fine fabrics that made her fingertips ache with longing. She looked up to see Sand grinning maniacally.

"Well?"

Sand read the note,

"Miss Williams and Miss Linlithgow,

Please accept our apologies for not expressing our approval of your efforts in the capacity of the Revels office sooner. Have the seamstresses alter these clothes as best suits you both, and be aware that we will expect you to be suitably attired according to the dignity of your positions whenever you undertake your responsibilities towards our court.

His Royal Majesty,

Jareth, the Goblin King

p.s. Sarah, please save me from these atrocious outfits. I never want to see them in my wardrobe again."

In his study, Jareth thought he heard laughter, and smiled.

--------------------------------

Surprised to see another chapter so soon? Me too! I repeat my caveat that updates will be slow; this one poured out on the page just to spite me and get your hopes up. Don't let it fool you. Tricksy little goblin chapter.

Uh, shouts out to AmericanWoman for pointing out that Sarah got a little too erudite last chapter; the 'sartorial/satyrial' joke is for you. Nods also to Fyreheart who requested a little more visual description; the wardrobe diversion is for you! Sincere apologies to anyone whose review I missed responding to. Things are a bit chaotic on this end (dives back into reams of paper on military history).


	12. Chapter 12: Trust

Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

Warning: this chapter starts _in media res_. That's thrown a few readers. Don't worry that you've missed material - all is explained (I hope) as the chapter unfolds.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter 12: Trust

Surely he wouldn't come, she thought. Jareth had sent word that he would be available in the afternoon for another lesson, but Sarah was certain he would cancel after he'd spoken to Hoggle. Would he think to send word? She wouldn't blame him if he forgot her altogether.

Sarah cut her imagination short before it could spin disturbing explanations for what had happened. Breathing deeply, she smoothed the snug, red silk of her tunic over the tangle of nerves in her stomach. She had changed into one of her new outfits, just in case, a long, red robe turned into a knee-length tunic with slits to mid-thigh over a pair of loose, flowing, hunter green trousers. She had been looking forward to his reaction when she'd first chosen the outfit.

"But surely he won't come," she muttered to herself.

"Surely who won't come, princess?"

Sarah gasped, whirling to face him. Jareth looked stern but unperturbed. He'd clearly changed for the lesson; his outfit matched the Arabian flare of her own too well to be accidental.

"Didn't Hoggle find you?"

Jareth waved a hand dismissively. "He did. It is of little matter."

"Little matter? Jareth, the Elves have closed their borders and the fairies are gone! You can't just pretend that didn't happen. You have to do something!"

"You dare?" he hissed. His calm mask slipped. "You dare tell me how to rule my kingdom?!"

And then it was dark.

It took Sarah a long moment to realize what had happened, in large measure because her capacity for rational thought had been cowed by Jareth's sudden rage. She cursed herself softly for her own stupidity. She'd called him by name and presumed to tell him what to do. They had been moving towards a sort of wary camaraderie, a cautious trust both required and created by the lessons, but she'd grossly overstepped the line.

Which left her in an oubliette. Again.

Sarah quickly came to the conclusion that she had an intense aversion to dark, damp spaces lacking visible exits. With a shiver she called forth a light, absurdly grateful that she could do such a thing. She noted quickly that this oubliette had neither a grate above, nor a suspiciously door-like plank of wood on the floor, which meant she really was stuck there until Jareth pulled her out. If he pulled her out.

Sarah sighed and sat on the packed earth. She gave herself – and, she hoped, Jareth – a few minutes to calm down before focusing her mind on the Goblin King.

"Majesty?" There was no response, but she hadn't really expected one. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean to try and tell you what to do. I'm just concerned, and...and frightened, I guess. Both Keyla and Hoggle seemed so upset. Please... I'm sorry."

Sarah waited, unconsciously holding her breath. And then, as instantaneously as she had vanished, she found herself once again in the ballroom, the cool marble floor replacing earth beneath her crossed legs. Jareth was sprawled on the floor against a nearby wall, looking as though he had slid down it moments before. Which, she realized belatedly, he probably had. He had one elbow resting on a raised knee, his hand covering his eyes as he drooped in defeat.

"There is little I can do, Sarah, at least until I know more of what has happened. Keyla is bound by the rules of her people and so could tell me nothing before I sent her home. I can take no action until she returns or the Elvin rulers send word."

"Oh." Sarah gnawed at her lip anxiously. "Is there..." She shrugged, feeling foolish. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jareth lowered his hand to look at her curiously. With a slight tilt of his head, he considered her question. "Tell me what you saw. You may have seen something that Hoggle didn't."

Sarah swallowed nervously. If Jareth wasn't even bothering to get Hoggle's name wrong, then the something was seriously wrong. Her brow furrowed as she thought back.

"Hoggle came into the kitchen this morning. He seemed worried, and he asked if there were any Elves living in the castle at the moment. The only one is Keyla, and she wasn't on shift, so I took Hoggle to her quarters. He said that something was up with the fairies, that most of them had disappeared from the walls overnight and asked would she speak with the ones left behind. I remember Keyla looked upset, even before we talked to the fairies, like she suspected what it might mean. We all went out to the trash heap, since the fairies there would be closer and Hoggle wanted to see if they'd left too." Sarah grimaced at the memory. "We could tell by the smell before we got there that they had. Only the old and injured ones were left, and not too many of them, but Keyla caught one and asked where the little sisters had gone, and it—"

Jareth sat up suddenly, his stare intent. "You understood their conversation?"

"Yes, I... is that wrong?"

"Do you understand me now?"

Sarah frowned, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. "Yes?"

"Sarah, I am not speaking goblin, nor common, languages I assured you could understand the first time you came here. I am speaking Elvish."

Sarah's breath caught. The fact that she was somehow able to comprehend a new language was not nearly as distressing as realizing that she had been unconsciously hearing and speaking underground languages all along. It was like discovering the air she'd been breathing was actually water.

Jareth smirked at her guppy-faced surprise. "Your magic grows strong indeed. Soon I will not be able to put you in an oubliette if you annoy me."

"Because..."

"Because you will transport yourself out again."

Sarah swallowed hard. The air felt heavy in her lungs, and she could feel tendrils of panic creeping at the edges of her tenuous grip on reality. Thankfully Jareth bypassed her imminent mental breakdown with a swift command. "What did the fairy tell Keyla?"

"It ... I thought it was a little weird, but it said 'Thieves in the silver cave. Ten years and more all gone. Sisters join the hunt.' And then Keyla told us that the Elves had closed the border and she had to go home. I don't know how she knew that based on what the fairy said, though."

"Selarand."

"Sorry?"

"Selarand. What you heard as 'silver cave' is the name of a place, Selarand. That it has been breached, that so much has been stolen..." Jareth shook his head, his strangely anxious expression filling Sarah's veins with ice. "There will be war somewhere, soon."

"H-how do you know? What was stolen?"

"Elves are, by their nature, peaceful creatures; in the past, other races, mistaking peace for weakness, discovered that the Elves maintain their borders with unparalleled viciousness. Have you heard of elf shot?" Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't cause much damage when it hits, but it paralyzes the victim. If its effects are not treated within a day, the victim dies. It is difficult to defend against, and so an effective deterrent. But even more effective is the process by which they make it. The severest punishment they inflict on invaders and trespassers is to use them to make more elfshot." The shudder that ran through the Goblin King told Sarah that she did not want to know the details. "I'm told it takes several months for them to die."

"That's terrible."

He shrugged. "It's war. After the first few times, people figured out that attacking the Elves was just plain stupid, especially since they were no threat otherwise. We have a perfectly acceptable mutual agreement over the fairies, for example, who technically owe allegiance to the Elvin King, but who create far less nuisance here. Although I do hope he will send them back here before the castle waste becomes an issue." He frowned. "The Elves guard their elfshot carefully. It is a serious crime to be caught with even a single, unauthorized bolt."

"But someone stole some? And that's why the Elves closed their borders?"

"Ten years worth of it, Sarah. A minor theft might be someone planning an assassination, but ten years worth... it can only mean war. Even a small force armed with elfshot would be difficult to stop. The Elves have closed their borders to protect themselves against their own weapon, and their people will return home to defend the land or join in the hunt. But I sincerely doubt anyone would be so foolish as to use elfshot against the Elves themselves."

"Th-then who?"

"I don't know." He wasn't lying, exactly, but Sarah could tell that he wasn't telling her the truth either. Unspoken fears stretched between them in silence, and then his regal mask was back. With a fluid motion he was on his feet, extending a hand to help her up, which she accepted with far less poise. "You must excuse me, Sarah, but I believe your first assessment was correct. There are matters I must attend to."

"Of course, your majesty."

"I had meant to tell you this at the end of the lesson, but I will needing your services as mistress of revels shortly. I am expecting visitors in a fortnight, perhaps earlier; you will attend us at dinner and arrange for some entertainment afterwards."

"As you wish, majesty. How large a party?"

"Hmm. Phestus usually travels with only a few lackeys, four at the most."

"Then may I suggest that Sandrelia play some—"

"No. You will provide the entertainment, Sarah."

Jareth's sharp reprimand sparked Sarah's temper; she struggled not to snap at him.

"Music would be more appropriate for such a small party, your majesty." She bit out the honorific with effort, her tone earning her a thin-lipped glare.

"Why do you think, Sarah, that Sandrelia's parents trained her as a court musician? Who better to know what goes on in court, to overhear private conversations, to gain access to a king's personal chambers? No. My discussions with Phestus must remain private."

Sarah's jaw dropped as she realized what Jareth was implying.

"You think Sandrelia is a spy? You're insane! She adores you. She'd never do anything to harm you!"

Sarah felt a twinge of guilt at the pain that flickered through Jareth's eyes.

"Not intentionally, perhaps. But she would not hesitate to tell her family of the things she has seen, to answer their questions when asked."

"So, what, they're some kind of puppet masters that raised their only daughter – the child you gave them – to spy on you without her knowledge? For what purpose? Don't you trust anyone?"

She could see the answer in his eyes before he said it.

"I cannot take the risk."

Sarah was stunned. His eyes dared her to pity him, but she saw the trap. That way lead back to the oubliette.

"What about me, then? Why do you even want me at your oh-so-private meeting? Aren't you afraid I'll reveal your secrets?"

"Who would you tell?"

The air between grew cold, the silence brittle. They both knew she had no one. Friends in the Labyrinth, yes, but she was comparatively safe precisely because she had no family, no connections in the underground, nothing but Jareth's good will for her continued survival. His words woke echoes of her long forgotten isolation and vulnerability, but his eyes refused to apologize for the truth. She glared at him, teeth gritted, her nails biting into her palms as he nodded at her comprehension.

"A fortnight, Sarah. I trust you'll come up with something."

The instant he disappeared, Sarah screamed in rage. "Stupid, arrogant, pig-headed, paranoid...." But even as she vented her anger to the empty air, all Sarah could think about was how very lonely it must be to be the Goblin King.

--------------------------------

Miss me? My sincere apologies to anyone whose last review I did not respond to directly. Life has thrown my some amazing but rather overwhelming adventures lately, so I wasn't as conscientious about responding as I'd like to be. Welcome, also, to those of you newly on alert. And thank you, everyone, for your continued patience with the slow updates (not that I've given you a choice, eh?). Slow publication is a sign of a rich life which (hopefully) will result in even better writing!

As always, reviews are most appreciated. Tell me something you liked, or something that didn't work for you. Do you buy this chapter after the last one? I'm aiming at rounded characters, but fear that they come off as simply bi-polar.


End file.
